


Covered Up

by Joycee



Series: Hospital 'Verse [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cancer, Euthanasia, M/M, Nurses & Nursing, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Psychotropic Drugs, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joycee/pseuds/Joycee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Student Nurse Neal Caffrey and Chief Resident Dr. Peter Burke continue to explore their feeling for each other while they work on the Oncology service at the hospital. When patients begin to die at an unusual rate, they enlist Mozzie and Elizabeth to help them figure out what's going on.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dr. Peter Burke, Chief Resident of the Oncology service, couldn't believe his good fortune. He stared into the deep azure eyes of student nurse Neal Caffrey, that reminded him so much of his former fiancee Elizabeth Burke's. He was studying with the attractive and sensitive younger man in his apartment. 

He watched as Neal stopped to sip the gourmet coffee he had brewed for them. Peter smiled affectionately as he reached out and touched Neal's soft curls. "Are you happy, sweetheart?"

"I am when I'm with you," Neal replied wistfully. He leaned across the table littered with books and papers to kiss him quickly.

"I wish you were happy all the time," Peter consoled. "What's bothering you?"

"It's just that two of my patients died last week and I can't see why. They should have had more improvement from their chemo and radiation treatments." Neal argued.

"You know, when you work with advanced stage cancer patients, you have to accept that some of them will die," soothed Peter. "You can't take every death personally."

"But I do," Neal protested. "Neither of those patients should have just died in their sleep like that. They were responding well to their experimental treatments."

"Didn't one of them have an inoperable brain tumor?" recalled Peter. "You know how slim the chances were for a cure."

"Yeah, and the other one had metastatic liver cancer. I know," sighed Neal. "I just hate losing patients, though."

"Neal, you can't identify with every patient as if she were Kate," pleaded Peter, aware that Neal was still recovering from his girlfriend's death the year before. "You've got to develop a little toughness or you will never last in this field."

"I guess so. Ms. Berrigan, my nursing instructor, suggested I should go talk to that psychiatrist, Dr. Mara Summers," Neal mused. "She was seeing both of those patients. She specializes in grief counseling for dying patients and their relatives."

"That's a good idea, Neal," Peter approved. He finished his coffee and then asked, "Was Dr. Fowler the attending physician for both of those patients?"

"No, it was Dr. Wayne Powell. I have never worked with him before," Neal pointed out. "He seems like a good doc, though."

Peter furrowed his brow, "Oh yes. He's new. I've heard that he has a sad story something like yours. His wife died of cancer a year or so ago."

"Well, I feel sorry for him then." Suddenly changing the mood, Neal asked playfully, "Have you seen that hot new nurse, Pierce Spelman? She has pretty blond hair down to her ass and...."

"Whoa, buddy," Peter cautioned as he playfully grabbed Neal's wrists. "Are you bored with me so soon. Already looking around?"

Neal giggled, "No, I'm just saying she's cute. Not really my type, though, as you know."

"What is your type?" Peter leered. "You'd better say tall, dark and handsome resident doctors."

"Exactly what I was going to say!" Neal pulled Peter to his feet and announced. "Study time is over. No more coffee. Let's go to bed."

The next morning, Neal helped to admit two new patients. Christiopher Harlowe, a bone cancer survivor with a recent recurrence, was the son of a State Department official. His girlfriend Rocker hovered by his side. The other patient, Daniel Picah, was a somewhat pudgy, nerdy, millionaire with an aggressive pancreatic tumor.

Both young men presented a challenge with regard to pain medication, since their conditions were causing them extreme discomfort when they came to the hospital. Neal started arguing for stronger and more effective medications as soon as he had finished their paperwork.

Lauren Cruz, the charge nurse that day, assured him, "I don't think you'll have any trouble with Dr. Powell. He seems to be very sympathetic."

Pierce Spelman, the new nurse hired to replace Alex Hunter, remarked casually, "Might as well keep them comfortable. They don't have much time left anyway, so there's no need to worry about addiction."

Neal turned to look at her in disbelief. He thought that was a very callous remark. He pointed out, "You shouldn't assume they have no hope. After all, they're here for treatment."

Pierce shook her long blonde ponytail and replied flippantly, "Keep believing it, sweet boy, but it's a fairy tale."

She walked off before Neal could reply. He turned angrily to Lauren, but she just shrugged. Everyone knew how fiercely protective Neal was of his cancer patients. He was thinking to himself that at least Alex had been compassionate.

Diana Berrigan, Neal's nursing instructor, walked up at that moment and admonished, "I hope there's not a problem here, Neal."

Neal pulled himself together and mumbled, "No, not really. I've got to go and check on Savannah Rowland."

The little girl with leukemia was sleeping sweetly and Neal hated to disturb her. He knew she felt sick from the heavy chemo she was receiving, but her blood counts were improving. He handled her gently while he changed her sheets and sponged off her face and hands, finishing with a little sweet smelling body lotion.

Savannah gave him a brave little smile and said, "At least you don't have to brush my hair - 'cause I don't have any." Neal chuckled and told her he thought she was beautiful that way.

He sat down beside her, stroking her arm and singing to her quietly until she drifted back to sleep. Neal felt especially close to his leukemia patients, since he had gone through so much with Kate before she died.

The girl's father and uncle were twin brothers who walked into the room arguing with each other as usual. James was complaining, "Yeah, the crotchety old man left everything to the planetarium and this hospital's cancer research fund. Vincent Adler put on quite a convincing performance for him."

"Well, it didn't save him, but maybe they'll come up with a breakthrough that will cure Savannah," Josh hoped. "As you know, he left some to her in a trust fund, similar to ours."

Neal put his finger to his lips and cautioned them to keep their voices down, so they wouldn't wake up his little patient. Josh mumbled, "Oh sorry. How is she today, Neal? This new treatment they're giving her seems to be really hard on her."

"it is, but she's already showing good results. Her blood counts are improving every day," Neal assured him. "We'll get her through this and hopefully she'll have a permanent remission."

Josh smiled, "You take such good care of her, Neal. I'm so grateful. You're her favorite nurse."

James apologized, "Sorry, we weren't thinking when we came in. Sometimes we get a little wrapped up in our discussions. We're both just so worried about Savannah. She's our whole world."

"I understand how hard it is," Neal said softly. "Take it easy, fellows."

Neal went down the hall and completed an extensive medical history on Christopher. He spent some time going over the treatment plans with him and his girlfriend. The young man's father had only stayed long enough to sign the admission papers before hurrying back to work. Neal offered, "I'll be glad to explain these again with you and your father when he comes in."

Rocker rolled her eyes and laughed. Christopher sighed, "Oh, I doubt if you'll see much of him. We don't exactly get along."

"We'll still need to get informed consent for your treatment from him, since you are a minor," Neal pointed out.

"Oh, he'll sign anything. He doesn't care," Christopher advised dejectedly. "Just mail him the papers. No telling when he'll get around to coming back here."

Neal thought it was a shame that the father and son were estranged even in the face of a potentially terminal disease. He vowed to himself that he would look into it and try to help if he could.

Neal delivered all of his patients' medications to them and took their vital signs. After that, he offered to spend his lunch break playing chess with Daniel on a portable board the patient had brought in with him. Daniel seemed lonely and Neal felt sorry for him.

Daniel winked awkwardly and leered, "What I do have to do to get that hot little blonde nurse on my case?"

"Oh yeah. she's new. Just looking at her would make anyone want to get well, wouldn't it?" Neal joked.

As they played, Neal noticed Daniel staring at him between moves. He asked self consciously, "Is everything okay, Dan? I don't have a stain on my tie, do I?"

Dan giggled shyly, "No, it's just that you are so gorgeous looking. I'm not used to being around anyone as cool as you are."

Neal blushed and gave him a big friendly smile. He suggested, "Let's just try to keep our minds on the game, okay? You're a good player, but I'm about to take your queen."

"If I were a queen, would you take me?" Daniel flirted awkwardly. Neal winked and captured the piece, saying simply, "Checkmate."

The hospital regularly held Mortality Conferences for the doctors to discuss recent deaths and analyze the treatment deceased patients had been given. The purpose was for everyone to learn from those sad cases, but most doctors hated to have their failures discussed.

Peter was surprised by Dr. Powell's casual, almost flippant, presentation of his two cases. He ended his remarks by pointing out, "Fortunately, both of these patients left their large fortunes to the hospital to do further research which might help future victims of these cancers."

Peter went to meet Neal at the end of his shift. He complained to him about the new physician's glib attitude toward his two patients' deaths. As he expected, Neal was offended. He offered, "How about if I meet you downstairs when I finish my charts and I'll try to make you feel better."

"Um, this is my weekend with Elizabeth, Neal," Peter reminded him regretfully. They had all agreed that Peter would stay with Elizabeth every other weekend and he really was looking forward to spending some time with her. Elizabeth was so relaxed and easy to be with, while Neal was fun, but very intense.

"Oh yeah. Sure. Well, you have fun then." Neal choked out. He tried not to show how jealous he felt, but didn't really succeed.

Pierce called out to him, "Hey Prince Charming, Lauren and I are going to meet some of our friends at the bar across the street. Care to join us?"

Neal shrugged, "Sure, why not? It's Friday afternoon. Ever tried tequila shooters?"

As he sauntered off the floor with his two coworkers, Neal gave a smug glance back at his irritated lover.


	2. Chapter 2

Neal and Lauren and Pierce joined a crowd of hospital workers in the bar. There were pitchers of beer on the tables, but Pierce stared down Neal and dared him, "Hey, you said tequila shots, didn't you?"

Neal nodded, grinning as he picked up the carefree mood of the crowd. "Sure, all we need is salt and limes, and Jose Cuerva."

Neal had never been a heavy drinker so the first shot went straight to his head, making him feel pleasantly high and flirty. He leaned toward his pretty blond companion and asked, "Shall we make it two?"

Pierce gave a throaty laugh and challenged, "Two is just getting started, babe! Here goes!"

She licked salt off her hand, slurped the shot of tequila and quickly sucked on a lime slice. Neal chuckled at the face she made at the shocking sour taste. She threw back her head and her green eyes glinted as she called out, "Another!"

Neal worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up with her, but she suddenly changed her mind and asked him, "How about we switch to margaritas instead, cowboy? They go down a little more pleasantly. Anyway, I'm hoping to be able to walk out of here later tonight."

"If you can't, I'll carry you," Neal chivalrously offered. "Just let me know where you want to go."

"Ooh, caveman, what if I want to go to your place?" Pierce flirted outrageously.

"I'm pretty sure that would be okay except we'd have to climb a couple of flights of stairs to get to my apartment," Neal pointed out whimsically.

"Oh, a walk up, eh? Are you a poor artist who lives in a garret?" Pierce teased, beginning to slur her words just a little.

"You might say that," allowed Neal with an amused smile. "Maybe you'll come over and you'll see it someday."

"You're fun," Pierce noted approvingly. "How did you decide to be become a nurse anyway?"

Neal's face fell and Pierce gasped, "Oh, I'm sorry, Neal. I forgot. Lauren told me about your girlfriend dying of leukemia."

Neal recovered and urged recklessly, "Hey, let's just have some fun tonight. That's all in the past."

"That's right, babe. You just gotta get on with your life," Pierce encouraged. She leaned toward him and almost fell off the high chair she was sitting on.

Neal laughed and caught her, exclaiming, "Whoopsie! Watch that first step." They both giggled together, "It's a doozy!"

Pierce awkwardly slid off her chair to slink into Neal's arms. She threw her arms around his neck. "Hey, you're really sexy," she purred.

"After a few margaritas, at least," Neal chuckled. He slowly traced her mouth with his finger. Then he confessed earnestly, "You're sexy, too, Pierce, but I was just flirting with you. I can't really do anything with you. I have a boyfriend."

"You have a what?" Pierce smiled. "I thought you were grieving for your girlfriend. Now you say you have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Neal nodded. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it? It's the truth, though."

"Okay, that's cool," Pierce cooed, pressing her hips against his. "You still like girls, though. I can tell."

"Naughty girl," Neal admonished as he tried to pull back a little. She had him trapped against the chair, though, and he was feeling very turned on. He thought to himself that Peter was probably making love to Elizabeth.

"If you have a boyfriend, where is he?" Pierce asked, wiggling sexily against him so her firm young breasts brushed against him.

Neal absently reached up and tweaked a nipple. He admitted, "Well, he had other plans for tonight."

"Mmm, wanna make some plans of our own?" She kissed him tentatively and he put his other hand up to stroke her silky long blonde hair.

Lauren noticed what was going on and asked loudly, "Hey, Caffrey? What's going on? I though you were all in love with noble Dr. Burke."

Neal's face pinked up and he struggled to push Pierce away from him. He felt flustered and was aware that others were watching him. He stammered, "I w-was j-just getting to know Pierce. That's all."

He could hear gales of laughter at that. Pierce looked at him strangely and repeated, "Your boyfriend is Peter Burke? Really?"

"Y-yeah. So what?" Neal asked, confused by her reaction. She shrugged, "Oh nothing, I just thought Peter was engaged to Adler's assistant, Elizabeth Mitchell. That's all."

"He is," Neal spluttered. "I mean he was. Um, that's where he is tonight, with her." He was aware of too many eyes turning to him and he slowly began to back up with his hands up. "Uh, I've gotta go."

Pierce looked away from him and muttered, "Bye, lover boy. It's been real."

Neal managed to collect himself to say, "Bye" and walk out of the bar with what was left of his dignity. He crossed the street and went into the hospital to get a cup of coffee which he hoped would sober him up enough to be able to get home.

He was fumbling with his change so he could buy a cup of coffee when his friend Mozzie came up behind him and offered, "Need a little help? Here, I'll get it."

Neal looked down and mumbled, "Oh thanks, Mozzie. I'm fucking everything up tonight."

Mozzie was surprised at Neal's language, but he soon realized that his friend had been drinking. He surmised, "Something happen over at the bar?"

Neal ran his hand through his hair and cried, "Oh Mozzie. All I wanted to do was relax and have a little fun, but now I've ruined everything."

"What do you mean?" Mozzie asked curiously. "I'm guessing this has something to do with your amour."

"My what? Oh, Peter. Yeah, it does," Neal admitted. "I made a total fool out of myself."

"Ah, was there a pretty young female involved, by any chance?" Mozzie guessed.

"Yeah, Mozz. Oh, just forget it. I need some coffee and then I'm going home," Neal whined.

"I could give you a ride," Mozzie offered. "You don't look like you're in any shape to take the subway tonight."

"Thanks, Mozzie. I can always count on you," Neal said sentimentally. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Of course not, mon frere," Mozzie responded cheerfully. Neal moaned woefully, "But Peter's gonna be."

After Mozzie dropped him off, Neal climbed the steps unsteadily, carelessly peeled off his clothes, fell into bed, and buried his face in his pillow. The tequilas caught up with him and he surrendered to sleep.

When the sun filtered through the windows early in the morning, Neal groaned and tried to turn over and ignore it. But his head was pounding and his mouth was dry and he felt a little nauseated. He sat up slowly and groped around in the drawer of his bedside table for some pain reliever.

With a heavy sigh, he got up and fixed some coffee and toast. He drank some of Mozzie's homemade remedy hoping it just might do some good. Then he sank down in a chair at the table and rested his head in his hands.

He vaguely remembered his humiliating experience in the bar with Pierce and moaned, "Oh, I'm never never going to drink again."

After breakfast he felt a little better and decided to go for a swim in the fitness center he belonged to. The long repetitive laps soothed him. When he got back home, he began to study and work on a paper he was writing for his classes.

He consoled himself with the thought that his problems were small compared to those of his critically ill patients. He put thoughts of Pierce and Lauren and the bar firmly out of his mind, but as he got ready for work on Monday morning, the memories returned to embarrass him all over again.

Neal hoped maybe he would be lucky and it would be Pierce's day off. He felt a glimmer of hope when he saw head nurse Sara Ellis sitting at the Nurses Station instead of Lauren. He pulled out his patients' records so he could catch up on their progress while he was gone for the weekend.

He was engrossed in the reports when he suddenly felt two small soft hands clasped over his eyes from behind. Pierce's clear high voice sang out, "Guess who-oo, Caffrey?"

Neal felt her long ponytail sweep across his neck as he reached up to remove her hands. He forced a smile and greeted her, "Oh, hey Pierce. Good morning."

"Aren't you going to ask me how my weekend went?" she demanded playfully. "I want to hear all about yours."

"No, you don't," Neal sighed miserably. "It was incredibly dull after my little tequila adventure Friday night."

Diana Berrigan appeared and instructed sternly, "Mr. Caffrey, please give me a brief summary of your patients' conditions and then I'll go see them with you."

Neal heard Pierce's tinkling laugh as she walked away and, for some reason, it annoyed him terribly. He took a calming breath and focused his attention on his instructor and his patients as they reviewed their care plans together.

His morning was busy with giving meds, helping his patients bathe, and changing their sheets. He helped to get Christopher ready to go down to Radiology for a bone scan. Dan got sick and vomited, so Neal cleaned him up and comforted him. He had just returned to the Nurses Station to check on Savannah's lab values when Peter walked up.

Neal gave him a quick smile, but he froze when he saw the hurt expression on Peter's face. He wondered, "What's the matter, Peter? Is something wrong?"

Peter grunted through gritted teeth, "Don't pretend you don't know. I hear you had quite a time Friday night with your nursing friends."

Pierce showed up at that moment and fussed over Peter, "Oh, Dr. Burke, I've heard so much about you!"

Neal's face colored and he tried to unobtrusively melt away, but Pierce toyed with him cruelly. "Where are you going, Neal? Aren't you glad to see your handsome boyfriend?"

Neal rushed straight into the unisex restroom and locked himself in. He tearfully remembered rutting with Peter there in a fit of passion just a couple of weeks ago. He butted his head against the cool tile wall and tried to breathe. He remembered Ellen, his substitute mother, uttering the biblical quote, "This, too, shall pass."

It sure didn't feel like he would be able to get past this excruciating moment, but he strengthened his resolve, washed his face, and stepped back out into the hall. Peter was standing there looking uncomfortable. Neal blurted anxiously, "I'm so sorry, Peter."

Peter's face relaxed and his brown eyes were warm as he placed his hand on Neal's shoulder. He said quietly, "I'm sure you are. Neal, when are you going to learn that you can't drink? It just gets you into trouble."

Neal nodded and promised sincerely, "No more Friday nights at the bar for me, Peter." He looked down self consciously and confessed, "I guess I was a little jealous. Maybe I was trying to get back at you by going out and having fun, but I never meant to embarrass you. You're right. I had too much to drink, and Pierce got me confused, and then....oh, Peter. I'm sorry."

"Oh well," Peter comforted him. "I'm not ashamed of my feelings for you, even if I would have preferred a little discretion. Everyone would have known sooner or later anyway."

Neal wanted to hug his understanding lover, but he realized it would not be appropriate in the hospital corridor. He whispered, "Thank you for understanding, Peter. I'm still sorry."

Dr. Powell stuck his head out of Savannah's room and called urgently, "Could I get a little help in here?"

Peter, Neal and Pierce all rushed to assist him. They were surprised to see the child having a seizure. Dr. Powell barked, "I need diazepam 2.5 mg stat, and let's get some nasal O2 started."

Neal watched while the others sprang into action. They all breathed a sigh of relief as the little girl's seizure subsided and she looked up at them with a confused and fearful expression. Neal gently took Savannah's small hand in his own and murmured soothing words of reassurance.


	3. Chapter 3

Neal was shaken when he returned to the Nurses Station after Savannah was safely sleeping. Peter came over and rested a hand on his shoulder. He suggested, "Time for a lunch break, buddy."

After they were seated with their cafeteria trays, Peter checked, "Are you all right? It's upsetting to see a child seize like that."

Neal nodded, "Yeah. Do you know what caused it, Peter?"

"I'd have to go over her record to know for sure, but Neal, you need to realize that she is a very sick little girl," Peter said softly.

Neal blinked and blurted out, "She has to get well, Peter. I promised her she would."

"Neal...." sighed Peter, "You can't make promises like that. That is not something you can control. You know, I think you should go ahead and make an appointment with Dr. Summers. If you're going to specialize in oncology, you need to learn how to accept that our patients can't all be cured."

"I know, but pediatric leukemia? She should be curable," insisted Neal stubbornly.

"And she probably is. Her seizure was most likely just a complication of her chemo. Dr. Powell treated her promptly so she should be okay now," Peter reassured.

"You're right, though. I need to get better control over my feelings. I think I will make an appointment to see the shrink," Neal decided.

Elizabeth joined them at their table and said coolly, "Thanks a lot for announcing to everyone in the bar the other night that Peter and I are no longer engaged because he's going out with you, or both of us."

Neal looked stricken. He'd forgotten about that after the emergency with Savannah. He anguished, "I am sooo sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't mean to. We were drinking tequila and I was trying to explain my situation to Pierce and it just came out."

"You really shouldn't drink, Neal," Elizabeth admonished. Peter and Neal both giggled at that.

"So I've been told," Neal admitted ruefully. "I really am sorry, though."

Elizabeth thought a minute and then mused, "Pierce? Oh, is she that sleek blonde nurse that replaced Alex Hunter? I know her. She has a huge crush on Peter."

"Who doesn't?" quipped Neal. Peter pretended to smack him, but Neal insisted, "Well, it's true, isn't it?"

Elizabeth laughed, "Oh Neal. Life was so uncomplicated before you came along."

"But not as much fun?" queried Neal hopefully. Peter and Elizabeth both smiled at him tolerantly.

Peter warned, "Well, let's see if we can make it a little less exciting. Okay, buddy?"

Neal grinned, "I'll try. Hey, I have to get back to work. I want to check on Savannah now that she's had a chance to rest."

Elizabeth gave Peter a worried look after he left. "That Pierce is bad news, I'm afraid."

Peter nodded, "She was tormenting Neal this morning. I don't trust her at all." He smiled apologetically. "Has all this been terribly embarrassing for you, Hon?"

"Oh Peter, it is what it is," Elizabeth sighed. "I can deal with it. Neal is going to be Neal."

"I knew he was going out drinking to spite me because he was jealous that I was spending the night with you. I should have tried to stop him," admitted Peter.

"Hon, you can't take responsibility for everything that Neal does," Elizabeth reminded him.

"I suggested he go talk to Dr. Summers," Peter disclosed. "He needs to learn to get some control over his feelings."

"God help Mara Summers," Elizabeth laughed.

Back on the floor, Neal found Savannah feeling scared and sad. He grabbed three washcloths and twisted them into rabblts and then juggled them for her until she laughed with delight. She reached for the washcloth toys and Neal gave them to her.

The sweet little girl looked very serious and asked, "Neal, do you still think I'm going to get well?"

Neal sat down beside her and exclaimed, "Of course I do! Don't you?"

She smiled and nodded and fondled the rabbits. She looked at at Neal yearningly and told him, "I want to get old enough to have a handsome boyfriend like you. We could go to the senior prom."

"Oh sweetheart," Neal breathed. "There's nothing I'd rather do than take you to the prom."

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" Savannah asked. "Wouldn't she mind?"

"Well, if I had a girlfriend, she would probably be very jealous of you, but I wouldn't care," teased Neal. "I'll bring you flowers and you'll wear a pretty dress and we'll dance all night. How does that sound?"

Savannah yawned, "That sounds like fun, but I'm tired now. Neal, would you sing to me?"

Neal began, "I could have danced all night...." He got up and twirled into a waltz with a pillow while he sang the _My Fair Lady_ classic.

When he noticed the little girl had gone to sleep with a little smile on her lips, he put down the pillow and sighed. Pierce was standing in the doorway looking enchanted. She gave him a little silent applause as he left the room.

Neal tried to get by her, but Pierce commanded, "Walk with me, Caffrey."

As they strolled down the hall, she asked curiously, "How do you do it? Doesn't it hurt to get so involved with your patients when you know a lot of them are terminal?"

Neal blew out a slow breath and answered, "Well, first of all, I don't believe that Savannah is about to die, but still, the answer to your question is 'Yes.' It is hard. I've been told that I'll have to learn not to get so close to my patients. I guess it's just very personal for me because of Kate."

Pierce touched his hand lightly and said, "Don't stop caring too much, Neal. It becomes you."

Neal hurried off to check on his other patients, Christopher and Dan. Neither one was having a very good day. Christopher had severe bone pain and Dan continued to suffer from nausea and abdominal pain. Neither of them had shown any progress yet since their admission.

Christopher had a somewhat fatalistic attitude, explaining, "I thought I had this cancer beat, but now it has recurred. You know, they are talking about amputating my left leg now."

Neal sympathized. He asked if Chris had thought much about how that would change his life and the young man replied, "Well, no more soccer, I guess. Sometimes I think I'd just as soon go ahead and die, especially when I'm in so much pain."

Neal listened sympathetically and commented, "Well, presumably if they amputate, that leg won't hurt anymore. In the meantime, I'll talk to Dr. Powell and see if we can get some better pain relief for you."

Christopher nodded gratefully, "Thanks for taking the time to listen to me. Not many people understand how I feel." He hesitated, then asked anxiously, "Neal, do you think my girl Rocker will still want me if I only have one leg?"

Neal felt heartbroken at the problems this poor young man was facing, but he forced himself to give him an optimistic smile and reassured, "I'm sure she loves you for who you are, not for your legs. Has she said anything to make you wonder?"

"Oh no," Chris said. "I just know how hard all this must be for her, too. Who wants a sick boyfriend?"

They looked up as Rocker entered the room, vowing, "I do, Christopher, and I want a boyfriend who is going to fight hard to get well."

Neal left them alone, feeling relieved that Chris's girlfriend was so supportive, especially since his father hardly ever visited him. Neal made a mental note to check out more about that family situation.

That made him think about the psychiatrist Dr. Summers, since she was seeing Christopher, too. He took a minute to call her office to set up an appointment for himself. Then he took a deep breath and headed for Dan's room.

Dan was a challenging patient because he was both terribly ill and socially awkward. A lot of the hospital staff avoided him, but Neal didn't want to do that.

When he saw Neal, Dan whined, "Is it time for more meds yet? I can't take much more of this."

Neal shook his head, sympathetically, "Sorry, Dan, not yet. How about a game of chess to take your mind off of it?"

"No, you'll just beat me," Dan pouted. "I'm such a loser." 

"I could play without a queen," Neal offered. "That would even things up."

Dan gave him a pathetic look and begged, "Neal, could you just talk to me for awhile?"

"Of course, Dan." Neal relaxed and pulled up a chair. "What's on your mind?"

"Did you know I'm very rich?" Daniel asked flatly. "Oh, I guess everybody knows that."

"Why do you ask? Is something worrying you?" pursued Neal. "Why don't you tell me what's on your mind."

"It's just that Dr. Powell is trying to convince me to leave all my money to the hospital. I'm not sure what to do," Dan explained. "What do you think about that?"

Neal was a little shocked that the doctor had made such an explicit request of a patient, especially one having such a rough time. He counseled, "I think the hospital is a good cause, but you should take your time about making any major decisions right now."

"Yeah. I just might not have that much time left, you know?" Dan pointed out.

"Oh, come on, don't get discouraged just yet, Daniel. You've only been here for a few days. Give your treatment some time to work," Neal encouraged.

"Well, Dr. Powell didn't seem to be all that optimistic. He sort of encouraged me to get my affairs in order."

Neal shrugged. He figured Dan was being melodramatic. He had probably misinterpreted what Dr. Powell said. He suggested, "Well, why don't you concentrate on getting well right now? I know the chemo is making you sick, but it will be worth it if it saves your life."

"Don't you get tired of being around dying people all the time? It must be depressing," Dan speculated morosely.

"Hey, nobody gets out alive. None of us really knows how long we're going to live," Neal reminded. "The important thing is to make the most of the time we have. I like to help people who are in pain be more comfortable. And we see plenty of miracle survivals, too."

"I guess," Dan acquiesced. "Neal? Would you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"What's that?" Neal wondered. Daniel cleared his throat and looked away. Then he said hoarsely, "Well, uh, that is, I was wondering.... Are you gay?"

Neal was taken aback. He dodged, "Now why would you ask that? Does it matter?"

"N-no," Dan replied hesitantly. "It's just, well, I think I am. Gay."


	4. Chapter 4

Neal was quiet for a moment. Then he told Daniel, "Well, that is a very personal thing. Are you attracted to men sexually, Dan?"

"I'm attracted to you, Neal," Dan admitted quietly. "My illness and the treatment are limiting my physical response, but I just feel it anyway.

Neal gave the sick young man a warm genuine smile and suggested, "I think this is an issue you should probably put off worrying about until you are feeling better. There's nothing wrong with being gay, but if I'm the only man you have felt attracted to, I'm not sure that's proof of anything."

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you," Dan agonized. "I didn't know if I should tell you."

"No man, I'm flattered. I think the best thing for you to do is talk it over with Dr. Summers," Neal said gently. "Okay?" 

Dan looked relieved and nodded weakly, "Okay. You know, I don't feel very good right now. I think I might throw up again."

Neal retrieved a basin and helped his pale sweaty patient sit up and lean over it. He looked at his watch and said, "Actually, I think it's about time for your meds now. I'm going to go and check. I'll come right back, though."

He hurried out of the room and went straight to the medication room. It was only a few minutes early for Dan's Phenergan and morphine shots, so Neal decided to go ahead and give them. Dan responded in a few minutes. As he handed the basin back to Neal, he sighed, "Thanks, Neal, I'm so sleepy now, I think I'll just rest for awhile."

Neal pulled the sheets over him and patted his hand. He told him fondly, "Take care, Dan. I'll see you tomorrow."

Back at the Nurses Station, Neal began writing his notes on his patients. Suddenly he felt very tired himself. He rested his head on his hand propped on the desk. Pierce came by and taunted, "Oh poor baby. Hard day?"

Neal ignored her and continued writing. He was looking forward to finishing with his shift so he could go find Peter. He became aware of Dr. Powell and Dr. Summers coming down the hall and watched them closely. He was relieved to see that Dr. Summers was a nonthreatening, businesslike middle aged woman. 

The psychiatrist went on down the hall, but Dr. Powell stopped in front of Neal and put his hands on his hips. He said heartily, "So this is the amazing Nurse Neal I keep hearing so much about from my patients."

"Yes sir. You do? What do they say?" responded Neal tentatively. 

The tall senior doctor chuckled, "Oh, it's 'Neal said this' and 'Neal did that.' You know - they need more pain meds, their prognosis is wonderful, you're a real nice guy, etcetera."

Neal didn't have any idea how to respond. He felt like he was being criticized, but he wasn't sure. He ventured, "Well, I try to give my patients the best care that I can. I hope I haven't said anything wrong."

Dr. Powell looked at him seriously and advised, "Just don't contradict me, Mr. Caffrey and don't try to tell me how to manage my patients. Dr. Fowler warned me that you have a tendency to do that."

"Uh, yes sir. No sir. Okay sir," Neal scrambled to reply deferentially. He didn't want to get off to a bad start with this new attending doctor, even if he wasn't sure why that seemed to be happening. He quietly turned back to writing his notes.

Peter appeared at his side as soon Dr. Powell left. He asked nicely, "You all right, Neal?"

Neal shrugged, "Yeah, yeah. I get the feeling that guy doesn't like me very much, though."

Peter answered thoughtfully, "There's something a little off about him. I just can't quite get a feel for him. He seems to know what he is doing as an oncologist, though."

Neal smiled and reached out to touch Peter. "I'm too tired to think about it right now. Can you come over tonight?"

Peter's forehead creased and he replied sadly, "Not for awhile, at least. I'm snowed under here. I have an emergency procedure to prepare for and I'm getting another new admission. On top of all that, one of my patients appears to be dying. We're trying to keep him comfortable."

"Oh," Neal acknowledged sadly, "Sometimes we lose the battle against this damnable disease, don't we?"

"Yes, Neal," Peter nodded gravely. "Sometimes we have to accept that there is nothing more we can do."

"I know," Neal admitted quietly, "but I still hate it. Anyway, I'm going home in a few minutes. I'll be there if you want to come sleep with me."

"Oh, I want to," Peter smiled. "I just don't know if I can get away. I may just have to sleep here for a few hours in an on call room."

"Aw, I miss you, Peter. Try to get away, okay?" Neal wanted to kiss his tired lover, but he refrained and just subtly brushed Peter's hand with his own. "I understand, though, if you can't."

Neal went home and got out his sketch pad and pastels. He like to draw for a relaxing creative activity when he felt stressed. He began to make a picture of Savannah that he could give to her if it turned out well. He enjoyed sketching all his patients as he thought about them, but pretty little Savannah was an especially pleasing subject.

For a moment, Neal flipped through his pad, looking at portraits of his former patients, noting which ones had died and which had gotten well. The latest was a young woman named Lindsey Gless. She had responded well to treatment of her leukemia and gone home.

For a moment, Neal flashed back on his memory of arguing to Dr. Fowler that she needed more aggressive treatment and pain relief. He wondered if that was what Dr. Powell had been referring to that afternoon.

Mozzie dropped by and looked around, asking, "Hey, where's the handsome doctor tonight?"

"At work, Mozzie, as usual. You know resident docs have a crazy workload," Neal informed him good naturedly. "Wanna have dinner with me?"

"Sure," Mozzie accepted. "I'll even help by opening a nice bottle of French wine."

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Neal agreed. "June doesn't mind us sampling her collection."

After dinner and two glasses of wine, Neal felt much better. He wondered if he could confide in Mozzie about Dan's confession that he was attracted to Neal. He decided to bring up the troubling matter of Dr. Powell asking Dan to leave his money to the hospital instead.

Mozzie listened with interest and frowned, "I don't like the sound of that. A sick patient is hardly in a position to make an important financial decision like that. He might even see it as coercive, like the care that he receives is dependent on him contributing."

"Yes, that's what I thought too. Dan seemed confused about it," Neal agreed. "Of course, it is true that Dan is very rich and is pretty much alone in the world. I suppose his money should go to some good cause after he dies."

"Is he going to die soon, Neal?" Mozzie asked gently. Neal wrinkled his brow and speculated, "Well, he's awfully sick right now. If this latest round of chemo doesn't work for him, he probably will die. It's too soon to know if it's working, though."

"He's not very old, is he?" Mozzie wondered. "I wonder how someone like that gets cancer?"

"What do you mean?" Neal chuckled. "He's about my age, which is kind of young for pancreatic cancer, but Mozz, you know being rich is no protection against getting cancer."

"Of course, I know that," huffed Mozzie. "Anyway, I know Adler is ruthless about pursuing contributions for the hospital, but I never knew of any docs asking their sick patients."

"I know. I suggested he take it slow about making any decisions right now," Neal mused. "Dr. Powell may have just mentioned it in passing as a suggestion. Dan takes everything very seriously."

"Didn't Powell have a wife who died from cancer?" remembered Mozzie.

"Yeah, that's what I heard," Neal acknowledged. "Do you think that has anything to do with it?"

"Don't know, my friend, but I've got to go," Mozzie concluded. "Have a good night, Neal."

"It would be better if Peter could come over," Neal grinned, "but I guess I need to catch up on sleep, too.

Very late that night, Peter quietly entered Neal's apartment and slipped into bed with him. Neal stirred and turned happily to snuggle against him. He mumbled, "Oh, you're here. I was just dreaming about you."

Peter chuckled as he felt Neal's erection against him, "I guess it was a good dream."

"Wanna make it come true?" Neal suggested sleepily. Peter hugged him close and sighed, "Maybe in the morning. I just want to hold you right now. Would that be okay, love?"

"It would be perfect. Thanks for coming to sleep with me," Neal murmured, stroking Peter's back with his hands.

When the sun sneaked in a few short hours later, Peter was ready to make good on his promise.


	5. Chapter 5

Neal nervously made his way to psychiatrist Mara Summers' office. He had never been on the psych floor of the hospital before. He wondered if it was unusual for a student nurse to seek counseling. He felt uncharacteristically nervous.

The doctor kept him waiting for about fifteen minutes, which only heightened his anxiety. When she finally called him in, she directed to him sit in a leather chair across from her. She gave him a cool practiced professional smile and asked, "What did you want to see me about, Mr. Caffrey?"

"Neal," he corrected. He felt right away that his usual Caffrey charm wasn't going to get him anywhere with this woman. "Um, I, uh, my nursing instructor Ms. Berrigan, and my friend Dr. Peter Burke, suggested that I should talk to you because I'm interested in specializing in oncology nursing, but I have trouble accepting the death of my patients. I guess."

"Do you agree with them that it’s a problem? And do you believe I can help you with it?" Dr. Summers questioned neutrally. "Maybe you should start by telling me how you chose oncology as your field of interest."

Neal squirmed and rubbed his sweaty palms together. This was going to be harder than he thought. He began, "Well, I was in love with a wonderful beautiful girl who turned out to have acute lymphocytic leukemia and, well, she died about year ago. I took care of her and it made me want to take care of others, too."

"You seem very nervous, Neal," the implacable doctor noted. "Perhaps I should give you something to help you relax."

"Oh, I, well, I don't know. Like what, Doctor?" Neal inquired curiously. "Do you mean Vaium or something?"

"Not exactly. I have something that will make it easier for you to open up to me. That's all. I think it would be better if we don't get into exactly what it is, given your professional background," Dr. Summers hedged.

"Oh, well, okay, I guess, if you think so," Neal consented hesitantly. "I have to go back to work later, though."

"I wouldn't worry about that too much," the doctor smiled as she rose to get him a tablet and some water. "Let's give this a try. I think it will help us to make progress much faster."

Neal swallowed the tablet. At the suggestion of Dr. Summers, he began to talk about his experience with Kate during her illness. After a few minutes, he began to feel his mood lift. He became more talkative and he wasn't nervous anymore. He giggled, "Um, I think the drug is working now, Doctor."

She smiled at him encouragingly and prompted, "Yes, you feel good now, don't you Neal?"

He nodded. He suddenly felt very positive toward the female doctor and wanted to please her. He confessed dopily, "I really like you, Dr. Summers."

"I'm glad. I really like you, too, Neal," she reciprocated. "You are a very attractive man. Do you have a girlfriend now, since Kate died?"

"No, I haven't been interested, but just recently I fell in love with Peter Burke," he disclosed openly. "I really think I love him. He was engaged to Elizabeth Mitchell, but she broke it off so he could explore his feelings about me. He still sees her too, though."

"How does that make you feel? Are you jealous of Elizabeth?" she followed up.

"Oh, kind of, I guess. I really like Elizabeth, though. She's wonderful. She loves Peter, too," Neal gushed.

"Do you love Elizabeth too? Or do you only really love men? You said you loved Kate, too? Was that a sexual attraction?" Dr. Summers pursued.

"Oh, um, yeah, it was sexual with Kate and it is with Peter, too. I don't know about Elizabeth. I guess I'm probably bisexual? There's this new nurse on my floor that's pretty sexy, but I don't like her very much," Neal babbled, feeling very excited. His thoughts were scattered and he couldn't concentrate.

"Oh? What is it about her that you don't like?" asked the doctor. "Anything specific? Do you think she's interested in you?"

"I don't know," Neal said honestly. "Did I tell you one of my patients said he was attracted to me? It made him think he is gay. He's gonna die unless his chemo starts working. Hey, weren't we supposed to be talking about how upset I get about my patients dying?"

"We can talk about that if you want to. Tell me more about the patient you were just talking about, Neal. Who is he?" Dr. Summers questioned casually.

"His name is Daniel Picah. He's this really rich nerdy guy who inherited tons of money from his parents. They died in a plane crash with his sister when he was a child. He doesn't have anyone else who really cares about him. He's kind of annoying, but endearing, too. You know? Dr. Powell asked him to leave all his money to the hospital research fund when he dies. Do you think that's appropriate? Because I'm not sure.... Whew, I'm sure talking a lot, huh?"

Dr. Summers gave him an amused smile and suggested, "Why don't you drink a little more water? I have to step out for a minute to make a phone call. If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back."

She left the door open and Neal overhead her saying urgently, "He knows you asked Daniel for money, Wayne. What do you want me to do?"

Neal felt confused. Was she talking to Dr. Powell? Was Neal about to get into trouble for telling the psychiatrist about his patient? He felt something was wrong, so he quickly got up and slipped out of the office into the hall. He felt that he needed to find Peter right away.

When he reached the elevator, Neal saw Dr. Summers hurrying down the hall after him with the phone still pressed to her ear. As she drew closer, he heard her say, "Shit! He's getting away."

The elevator bell rang and Neal stepped in and pushed the button. The doors closed before Dr. Summers could reach him. Neal looked around and found Peter in the room of an unconscious patient. Peter looked up and said, "Oh hi, Neal. Finished with the psychiatrist already?"

Neal panted, "Peter, she drugged me and I told her about you and Kate and Dr. Powell and Dan...."

Peter pressed a kiss on his lips and told him amiably, "Shut up for a minute, Neal. Let me finish up with his patient. You go out to the Nurses Station and wait for me; then we'll go take a coffee break and you can tell me all about it. Okay?"

Neal nodded and did what Peter told him. At the Nurses Station, Dr. Powell found him and exclaimed, "Oh there you are, Caffey. Come with me, please."

He took Neal's arm and steered him back to the elevator. When they got on, Dr. Powell, punched a number in his phone and said tersely, "Mara, it's me. I have Caffrey. I'm bringing him back up there now. Yeah."

Dr. Powell walked Neal firmly back to Dr. Summers' office. She approached him carefully and said softly, "I think I may have given you a little too strong a dose of that medication. I need you to take this to calm down now."

"To calm down?" Neal questioned mildly. "Okay." He took the pill she was offering and drank it down with some water. He still felt high and he gave his best imitation of _Jefferson Airplane_ singing, "One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small....Feed your head, feed your head." 

The two doctors led him over to a couch and suggested he sit down. They began explaining to him how important it was for the hospital research fund to gather enough donations to provide for the cutting edge research that could save peoples' lives.

Neal nodded confusedly and then gave into the increasing urge he felt to lie down on the couch. He slurred, "I'm jus' gonna res' for a min...."

As he closed his eyes, he heard Dr. Summers tell Dr. Powell, "There, that's better, he won't remember a thing."

Later, after he woke up embarrassed and found his way back to Peter on the Oncology floor, that's all he could remember from the whole experience. Peter asked him, "Hey Neal, where did you go? I thought you were going to wait for me. Want to take that coffee break now?"

Neal nodded. He still felt dazed and confused. He muttered, "They said I wouldn't remember."

Peter led Neal downstairs to get some coffee and they sat down at a small table. Peter asked solicitously, "Now what's all this about Dr. Summers giving you drugs? Are you talking about antidepressants?"

"I don't think so," Neal said slowly, shaking his head. "I can't quite remember. I started talking to her and then she said she'd give me something to help make it easier for me to confide in her and then I think she gave me something else that made me sleepy."

Peter took note of Neal's untypical slightly mussed appearance and worried, "I'm not sure what's going on. Let's go up to her office and ask her. Okay buddy?"

"Okay," Neal agreed, relieved that Peter was coming with him.

When Peter asked Dr. Summers what happened with Neal, she gave him a concerned look and asked, "Didn't he tell you, Dr. Burke? He became upset and agitated while he was telling me about the death of his girfriend Kate so I gave him a little sedative to help him calm down. The drug made him sleepy and he took a little nap on my couch. Don't you remember, Neal?"

Neal repeated vaguely, "You said I wouldn't remember."

Peter looked at him sympathetically. He had no idea that counseling would prove so emotionally difficult for Neal. He told Dr. Summers, "Well, I'm going to take him home now. I don't think he's up to finishing his shift."

Peter called Ms. Berrigan and let her know that Neal wasn't feeling well after his counseling session and needed to go home early.

When they got to his apartment, Neal asked doubtfully, "Peter, can you take the afternoon off?"

Peter affirmed, "Yeah, I've got everything under control right now. I worked late last night, remember?"

Neal plastered himself up against Peter and began to nibble his ear and bite his neck. Peter chuckled, "Whoa there, buddy. Take it easy. Let's change into something a little more comfortable, okay?"

Neal stripped, staring at Peter sentimentally. He vowed, "I really love you, Peter."

Peter grinned, "Yeah and you're still a little high, I think. Come on, let's go to bed and you can show me."


	6. Chapter 6

Neal and Peter spent a sweet afternoon making love. Afterward, they napped for a little while. Neal awoke refreshed and suggested to Peter that they take the opportunity to go out for dinner. Peter suggested Donatello's, a favorite Italian restaurant that he had often gone to with Elizabeth.

To their surprise, after they were comfortably seated with a bottle of Barolo in front of them, Dr. Mara Summers arrived at the restaurant in the company of Dr. Wayne Powell. Neal's first reaction was to hiss, "Duck, Peter. I don't want them to see us."

"Don't be silly," Peter replied. "We'll just say hello. They're not interested in us."

Neal was relieved when the couple passed by without noticing them, though. They were deep in discussion with each other, not paying any attention to their surroundings. Neal checked to see that the two doctors were seated far enough away that no one could eavesdrop. He begged, "Please Peter, let's just have appetizers and go. Pretend you got called back to the hospital again. I can't enjoy myself here now."

Peter signaled the waiter and frowned, "Well, okay, Neal, if it's really that important to you."

"Sorry. It's just that I don't trust them. I know there was something wrong about my session with Dr. Summers this afternoon, even if I can't remember exactly what it was." Neal agonized. "And why is she with Dr. Powell anyway?"

Peter soothed him, "Neal, you've been stressed lately. If you don't want to go back to Dr. Summers, we can find someone else for you. Maybe she and Dr. Powell are dating. They're both single."

"Yeah, I guess. Peter, it's this thing about asking wealthy patients to donate their money to the hospital that bothers me. I can't shake the feeling that there is something funny going on," Neal worried.

"You know, my patient that died last night fit that pattern, too," Peter remembered. "He was a man who had built a successful limo company here in the city and he left everything to the hospital research fund. He died of lung cancer after too many years of smoking."

"Was Dr. Powell his oncologist?" asked Neal quickly. "And do you know if he was Dr. Summers' patient, too?"

"I think so, yes. He was definitely Dr. Powell's patient, but Neal, Fowler's patients die, too, you know. Even Hughes' patients die, but if you want, I could check the mortality statistics for the hospital to see if there are any unusual patterns," Peter mused.

"Come on, Peter, let's get out of here. Try not to let them see us, okay?" Neal urged when they finished their appetizers."

Peter smiled and paid the bill. He winked and said, "Okay, Columbo, let's blow this joint."

Neal chuckled. They were both lost in thought on the way to back to Neal's place. When they got there, Peter excused himself, saying, "Just let me check my messages and call the nurses to see if my patients are all right, okay buddy?"

Neal nodded and cut them slices of the amaretto cake they had purchased as they left the restaurant. He leered, "Then dessert!

Peter got off the phone and came over to rest a hand on Neal's shoulder sympathetically. He broke the news gently, "Buddy, I'm sorry, but your patient Daniel Picoh has taken a turn for the worse. Lauren said she wasn't sure he'll make it through the night."

"Oh no! But why, Peter? What happened?" Neal exclaimed. "I mean he's been very sick, but he wasn't close to death. Not yet. He's still getting chemo treatments."

Peter patted his shoulder and soothed, "Take it easy, Neal. We've been talking about this. Sometimes our patients succumb to their disease. Pancreatic cancer can be very deadly."

"Of course, I know that. But Peter, something's wrong. I know it! Dan wasn't dying yesterday," Neal stressed.

"You want to go over there tonight and see him?" Peter offered, "I'll go with you."

"Really?" asked Neal gratefully. "Can we? Maybe you'll think of some way to help him. At least, I can be there to hold his hand."

"Come on, then. Let's go," affirmed Peter.

When they reached Dan's room, Neal went straight over to his patient's bedside and took his hand. Dan looked up at him and an expression of relief came over his contorted features. He whispered, "Neal. You're here."

Neal nodded, blinking back tears. Peter quickly scanned Dan's medical record for any helpful information. Suddenly he frowned and asked Lauren, "Is this his most recent blood sugar result?"

Lauren nodded solemnly and explained quietly, "Dr. Powell told us not to torment him by drawing more blood for tests."

Peter replied urgently, "But this is way too high. This patient needs insulin and then we need to stabilize his electrolytes and restore his acid base balance. We can save this man if we hurry."

Neal turned around to look at Peter in shock. He urged, "Then we have to, Peter. Please give the orders for what he needs."

Peter went to work with Lauren, administering the necessary drugs and sending samples for more blood results. Within a couple of hours, Dan was looking much better and the crisis had passed.

Neal refused to leave Dan's bedside until he was completely out of danger. Peter went out to the Nurses Station to record his actions and the results. He felt satisfied that he had managed to save Dan's life, no matter how temporarily.

Lauren gave him an admiring look and then shook her head. "You're such a good doctor, Peter. I wonder why Dr. Powell didn't notice those results when he saw him a few hours ago."

Peter looked at her in consternation and objected, "But he must have. You said he told you not to draw any more blood for tests, though, didn't you?"

Lauren nodded and confirmed, "He did. He said nothing more could be done for him. He said it was a good thing that Dan had gone ahead and signed his will yesterday leaving all his money to the hospital research fund."

"He did?" Peter questioned. "Neal said Dan was undecided when he talked to him."

"He was, until Dr. Summers came by and talked to him. Then he decided he might as well. She convinced him that it might help someone else, even if it was too late for him," Lauren related.

Neal heard the last of their conversation as he walked up to them. He cried, "But that's outrageous. Now do you believe me, Peter? Dr. Powell and Dr. Summers are up to something."

"We don't know that," Peter cautioned. "I'm sure Dan wasn't as deathly ill when Dr. Powell saw him earlier."

Lauren agreed, "No, he kept getting sicker as the night went on, but Dr. Powell left us non-resus orders. He seemed to expect that Dan wasn't going to make it."

Neal anguished, "Because he wanted it that way. Don't you see?"

Peter shushed him, "Neal, don't make accusations like that. You can't prove that's the case."

"But Peter...." Neal continued to plead. Peter interrupted him firmly, "Come on, Neal. We're leaving now. Thanks for your help, Lauren. Please watch Dan closely for the rest of the night and let me know if he has any more problems. I believe the crisis is past for now, though."

Neal balked, "Wait, Peter. I just need to check on Christopher and Savannah to see if they are all right before we go."

To his great relief, Christopher was asleep with his girlfriend sitting in a chair, her head resting on the bed and her hand locked with Chris's. She looked up wearily when Neal opened the door, but he waved to her to go back to sleep.

Even more gratifying was the sight of Savannah curled up with the washcloth bunnies he had made for her. Her sweet little face was peaceful in sleep and Neal couldn't resist tiptoeing over to gently pull the sheets up to cover her snugly.

He peeked into the door of Dan's room one last time to be sure he was resting comfortably. Then he agreed to leave with Peter to get a few hours sleep before morning.

The next day, Dr. Powell confronted Peter at the Nurses Station, "Well, Dr. Burke, I see you saw fit to interfere in my patient's case last night."

Peter was unintimidated and replied calmly, "I would think you would be thanking me for saving your patient's life."

Dr. Powell harrumphed, "Some favor you did for him. The boy is dying from an aggressive pancreatic tumor that has been unresponsive to therapy. You should have let him go peacefully last night instead of interfering so he will have to suffer longer."

Neal chimed in, "Except the lab results that just came back this morning show a decline in his cancer markers. He is actually beginning to respond to the chemo."

Peter pointed out, "That wouldn't have looked very good at the Mortality Conference, would it, Dr. Powell?"

The senior physician stomped off without another word. Peter turned to Neal grimly and promised, "I'm going to talk with Dr. Hughes about this."

Neal nodded and informed him, "And I'm going back to see Dr. Summers again."


	7. Chapter 7

Peter sat down in Hughes' office wearily and listened to the department head, who had been his mentor for as long as he had been at the hospital. Dr. Hughes admonished, "I know student nurse Caffrey gets emotionally involved with his patients, but I won't have you or him making reckless accusations against our attending physicians."

"I know. That's what I told Neal, sir," agreed Peter. "It's just that I am concerned about Dr. Powell soliciting donations to the hospital research fund from dying cancer patients. It doesn't look good. I'm not sure it's ethical."

"I see your point, but let me explain something to you, Peter," Dr. Hughes said patiently. "A little over a year ago, Wayne Powell's wife Ella died while she was receiving an experimental treatment for breast cancer. Shortly after she died, that treatment was modified and it has been producing good results since then. Wayne was convinced that Ella could have been saved if only the research had produced results a little faster."

"I see," Peter mused. "But may I ask what Dr. Summers' role in all this is? She seems to be instrumental in convincing the patients to sign over their wealth."

"Hmm, I'm not sure," Dr. Hughes admitted. "I know Mara and Wayne have been seeing each other recently. I'm not sure about their professional relationship, but perhaps she is just sympathetic to his cause."

"I guess," Peter supposed, "but I have to tell you, sir. Neal went to see her as a patient and something very strange happened."

"What? Is Caffrey having psychological problems now? Why did he seek psychiatric care?" Hughes asked with raised eyebrows.

"Ms. Berrigan suggested that Neal talk out his reluctance to accept death as an unavoidable outcome for some cancer patients. I encouraged him also, because I think he lets himself get too emotionally involved," explained Peter.

Hughes frowned, "Ah, yes. That makes sense. I know how deeply affected Neal was by his girlfriend's death. What was the problem when Neal went to see Dr. Summers then? I understand she is very good."

"Well, I'm not sure, but she gave Neal a sedative and he couldn't remember much of their conversation. He just felt that there was something odd about it," Peter stated.

"You know it sometimes takes several sessions for a patient to become comfortable with therapy. Maybe that's all it is," concluded Hughes.

Peter capitulated, "Yes sir. Maybe that's it. Neal is going to back to see her today, I think."

Later Peter had lunch with Elizabeth Mitchell, Hospital Administrator Vincent Adler's Assistant and Peter's recent fiancée. He told her about the incident with Dan Picoh the night before and then repeated much of his conversation with Hughes.

Elizabeth listened to him intently. She asked a few questions and finally offered, "Why don't I pull the mortality stats for the docs on the oncology service and we can see if there is anything unusual there. I can get the Research Fund's records of contributions as well."

"Thanks, hon. You're a doll," breathed Peter gratefully. "I need to be a little bit careful now since Hughes warned me not to do anything that might look bad for Dr. Powell."

"As for Dr. Mara Summers, I thought she was a lesbian. In fact, I heard she was in a relationship with Diana Berrigan at one time."

"Ohh, well, that's interesting. What is she doing with Dr. Powell then?" Peter wondered. "They seem to be working together with a lot of patients, and last night Neal and I saw them together at Donatello's restaurant."

"You took Neal to Donatello's?" anguished Elizabeth. "I sort of thought that was our special place, Peter."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Peter said sincerely. "I didn't think. We didn't stay there long anyway because Neal wanted to leave as soon Dr. Powell and Dr. Summers came in."

Elizabeth sighed, "I had hoped you might get over this thing with Neal quickly, but I guess that's not going to happen."

"You have to remember, El, so much of my time is taken up by work that I don't really spend that much time with Neal. I do care about him, though."

"I know. Will I still see you next weekend?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.

"If you want to, you will," promised Peter. "You know I care about you, too."

Upstairs in Dr. Summers's office, Neal looked around his bland surroundings while he waited to see her. Then he flipped through a _People_ magazine. He was checking the time on his watch once again when the slightly tired looking psychiatrist finally appeared. She apologized, "I'm sorry, Neal, but I had to work your appointment into my schedule. You sounded like you had an urgent problem you wanted to discuss with me."

When he was seated across from her, he asked, "Did you encourage the patient Daniel Picoh to sign his estate over to the hospital research fund yesterday?"

She looked uncomfortable and replied, "it would be unethical for me to disclose to you what I discussed with another patient."

"Even though he is assigned to me as a nursing student?" Neal asked guilelessly.

"But you are here to see me as a patient; not as a professional colleague. Isn't that right?" the doctor insisted.

"I suppose so. Although I am here to talk to you about some problems I'm having in my professional life as a nurse," hedged Neal.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to me about your sexual orientation? You seem confused about that issue," probed Dr. Summers.

"Why do you say that?" Neal asked curiously. "Did I say that when I was here last time?"

"Don't you remember?" she challenged. "You became quite upset and confused while you were you were telling me about your relationships with Kate and Peter." 

"What? Really? What did I say? I don't feel confused," Neal asserted. "I was in love with Kate before she died. Now I'm in love with Peter."

"What about Matthew Keller? Where did he fit in?" asked the doctor slyly. "How many lovers have you had, Neal? How many were men?"

"What difference does it make now?" Neal objected. "Forget about my sexuality. What I want to talk to you about is getting too attached to my patients, and not wanting them to die."

"Why would you want your patients to die?" she questioned. "And what is too much attachment?"

"Well, that's what I don't know," Neal admitted. "I especially have a hard time with leukemia patients because that's what Kate died of. For little kids and for most adults, leukemia is a treatable survivable disease. At least it should be."

"Do you believe that Kate was treated properly before she died?" Dr. Summers wondered.

"Well, yeah, I do now. I wasn't so sure about it at the time, but I've learned so much more about it since then," Neal replied thoughtfully. "Her disease was already at an advanced stage before she was diagnosed."

The doctored suggested, "Neal, what if you thought that an experimental treatment that was being developed just needed a little more funding for research to make it effective? What if research like that could have saved Kate? What if it could save the patients you have now?"

"Oh, well, I guess I would want that research to be funded as fast as possible," Neal confessed.

"Exactly," Dr. Summers nodded. "And who else is in a better position to will their estates to cancer research than patients who are dying from cancer themselves? Have you thought about that, Neal?"

"No, not really. I guess that makes sense," Neal agreed reluctantly, "but sick patients shouldn't be made to think they have to contribute. It should be a free choice. When a patient is desperately ill, he may think that the care he receives is dependent on him donating his money."

"In a way, it is, though, isn't it? Indirectly, the research for the care he receives today was dependent on the contributions other people made in the past," she suggested.

"But doesn't the government fund most of the cancer research? And what about universities?" Neal wondered.

"Those are important, too, but there really never is enough money," she told him.

"Still, Dr. Powell got Dan to sign a commitment to donate his estate and then he was just going to let him die last night!" Neal asserted angrily. "That's not right!"

"That's quite an accusation to make. Are you sure that's what happened?" asked the doctor carefully.

"I know you won't be fair about this, doctor. You're dating Dr. Powell," Neal said sulkily.

Dr. Summers chuckled, "Is that what you really think, Neal? I have news for you. My last romantic relationship was with your instructor, Diana Berrigan. I'm not into men."

"B-but, uh, I saw you with him at Donatello's last night!" Neal told him. "Weren't you on a date?"

"Uh, no. We had dinner together to discuss a professional matter. That's all," she insisted.

"But he calls you in on all his cases," he persisted. "How do you explain that?"

"Neal, Dr. Powell is an oncologist and I specialize in counseling terminally ill patients. Didn't you know that?" she countered.

"Okay then, but why did you drug me the last time I came here?" Neal asked in confusion.

"I told you," the doctor said simply. "You were very nervous and I thought it would help you to relax so you could talk to me. You ended up passing out on my couch, though, so I guess I must have given you a little more than you needed."

Neal felt there was something about that story that wasn't right, but he couldn't remember enough to know for sure. He hesitated to argue with her. She had already given him a lot to think about.

Dr. Summers gave him her practiced professional smile and concluded, "I'm afraid that's all I have time for today, but you are welcome to make another appointment if you'd like."

"Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I'll call you. Okay?" Neal felt disconcerted. He certainly felt less clear about things than when he came in.

He went back down to the Oncology floor to check on his patients and to find Peter. He wanted to analyze his conversation with the psychiatrist with him.

He didn't get that chance, though, because Head Nurse Sara Ellis saw him and cried, "Oh Neal, there you are! Christopher Harlowe is refusing to consent to the amputation of his leg. He says he wants to die, and he'll only talk to you."


	8. Chapter 8

Neal approached Christopher's room apprehensively. He entered quietly and found Chris with his head buried in his pillow. Neal walked over and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, asking, "Hey, what's up, buddy?"

Christopher turned and looked up at him with a distraught expression. He answered dully, "Hey, Neal. I can't do it. I don't want my leg cut off and I can't stand the pain anymore. I just want to die. Can you understand?"

Neal took a deep breath and responded, "I think I can. There was a time in my life when I felt so bad about losing my girlfriend to leukemia that I thought I'd rather be dead. I was wrong, though, and so are you."

Chris asked, "Did you really have a girlfriend who died from cancer? Maybe that's why I feel like you can understand me."

Neal said quietly, "Her name was Kate and I loved her so much. She did everything she could to fight for as long as she could, though. I would have felt so much worse if she had just had given up."

"Would you want to have only one leg, Neal?" Chris replied bitterly.

"Well, of course, I'd rather not, but if it would save my life, I wouldn't hesitate to do it - especially if the damn leg were causing me so much pain," Neal told him sincerely.

Chris was quiet, so Neal reminded him, "You know, lots of soldiers have lost limbs in wars; and because of that, there's been amazing progress made in prosthetic limbs."

"Really?" Chris looked up at him unsurely. "You're not just saying that?"

"Nope," Neal promised. "They really are amazing. You can still do anything you want to. Even play soccer. Or ski. Did you know one of the victims of the Boston terrorist bombing ran in this year's marathon?"

"No, I didn't. But aren't the articial legs ugly?" Chris wondered.

"They don't have to be and, with clothes on, no one can even tell, Neal assured him. "Anyway, I heard your girlfriend say she just wants you. She especially wants you well."

"Yeah, I know, but I think my dad would just be glad if I died. He doesn't want to be bothered with me," the boy mourned.

Chris's father had been called because of the crisis. He suddenly burst into the room and gathered his son in his arms. With tears brimming, he vowed, "That's so not true, son. I love you. I just didn't know how to deal with the fact that you were sick and might die."

"That's why you've been staying away, Dad?" queried Chris emotionally.

"I'm so sorry, Chris," his dad told him. "I don't want to lose you. You can do this. I'll help you."

"You don't have time," Chris worried. "You never have time for me."

"I'll take time off. Nothing is more important than you. We'll do this together. Just please don't give up. Don't die, okay?" his father begged.

Chris buried his face in his father's shoulder and sobbed, "Okay, Daddy. I love you."

Neal backed silently out of the room. He was shedding his own emotional tears and he hurried down the hall so he could compose himself.

Sara followed him and said sincerely, "Caffrey, that was wonderful. You should be proud."

"Aw, it was his dad that made all the difference," Neal protested.

"It was his dad listening to you in there that helped him to realize what his son needed, too," Sara pointed out.

Chris's girlfriend walked up and asked shyly, "Neal? Did you talk to him? He made me leave the room. Do you think he would want to see me now?"

"I'll bet he would," Neal smiled. "He's a lucky guy to have such a supportive girlfriend."

"I love him," she aid simply. "I just want him to live and get well."

She headed for Chris's room and Neal sat down at the desk. "Wow, this has been a crazy day," Neal sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

In a minute, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he could react, Peter stealthily leaned over and pecked a kiss on his cheek. Neal leaned back and rested his head against him. Peter chuckled and came around where Neal could see him. He said casually, "So I hear you've been saving lives this afternoon."

"Oh, just one," Neal joked. "Peter, I talked to Dr. Summers and I'm confused. I need to discuss it with you."

"Okay, I just got another new admission. Do you think we could have dinner at that diner down the street in a little while?" Peter suggested.

"Yeah, that's good. I still need to give my afternoon medications and write notes on my patients for today," Neal remembered.

He was excited to see how much better Savannah was feeling. Her chemo regime was definitely working to give her a good remission. He hoped it would be permanent. Her father Josh had come to take her home and he effusively thanked Neal for everything he had done.

Josh's brother, James commented, "You know, Father left a lot of money to this hospital's research fund. Now I think it was worth it if it can save more lives like Savannah's."

Neal was curious. "Was your father sick when he decided to give money to the hospital?"

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, he was dying. Before that, he planned to leave everything to the Planetarium, except for generous trust funds for Josh and me and Savannah. At the time, we kind of wondered if they were taking advantage of him."

Josh added, "He sure would have been happy that this hospital could help Savannah, though. And we are too."

Neal wondered, "Has anyone asked you if you were willing to donate more money to the research fund?"

James frowned, "Dr. Powell brought it up, but we think this family has done enough, at least for now."

"Yes, you have been very generous," agreed Neal. "I'm so happy Savannah is getting well. Please keep up with her treatment so she has a complete cure."

Neal bent down to take Savannah's hands and twirled her around. "Don't forget we're going to the prom one day, pretty girl!"

He could hear her joyful giggles as he walked toward Daniel Picoh's room. Dan was asleep, so Neal quietly checked his IV drip and then gently woke him to take his vital signs. Dan groggily put his hand on Neal's wrist and complained, "I haven't seen much of you today. Have you been avoiding me?"

"Of course not," Neal assured him. "I've just had kind of a busy day. Was there something you needed Dan?"

"I don't know. I guess not. I slept most of the day, I think," Dan admitted.

Neal looked concerned and told him, "Buddy, your temp is up pretty high. How are you feeling?"

"Kind of sick and shivery," Dan noted, pulling his blanket up. "Maybe that's why I've been sleeping so much."

Neal nodded, "Okay, I'm going to go see if there's an order for a fever reducer for you. I'll be back in a few minutes."

When he returned, he roused Dan again, just enough to get him to swallow some acetaminophen. He stepped into the bathroom to wet a cool washcloth to wipe Dan's hot skin. He had just turned the water off when he heard Dr. Powell and Dr. Summers enter Dan's room.

Powell said quietly, "His fever's up now." Summers urged, "Then this is the perfect time. Go ahead and give it to him."

Powell resisted, "I don't know, Mara. Maybe it's too soon." Neal heard her say, "Oh please, Wayne. Just give me the syringe and I'll do it."

Neal burst out of the bathroom and tried to grab her hand. Dr. Powell grabbed Neal by the back of his neck, but Neal managed to deflect the syringe before Dr. Summers could inject it's contents into Dan's IV line. She turned and jabbed the needle into Neal's upper arm instead. Neal was able to twist away, but he felt a slight sting where some of the medication must have been injected.

He stared at Dr. Summers in shock. Dan woke up and asked, "Neal? What's going on?"

At that, the two senior doctors hurriedly exited the room. Dan asked, "Was that my doctor? What did he say?"

"He said you're going to be okay," Neal lied. He hurried into the hall but the two nefarious physicians had vanished.

When Neal got to the desk, he asked Sara if she had seen Dr. Powell and Dr. Summers, but she insisted they hadn't been around. Neal argued, "Yes, they were just in Dan Picoh's room. They were about to inject something into his IV."

"So what?" asked Sara nonchalantly. "Dan has plenty of meds ordered, including his chemo injections. Check his chart."

Neal pulled Dan's record and looked at his medication sheet. Nothing recent was recorded. Neal made a note of Dan's fever and the acetaminophen he had just given to him. He wondered if he could have misinterpreted the situation. He rubbed his arm where the needle had plunged in, but he felt fine.

He went ahead and wrote a brief discharge summary note for Savannah. Then he set off to find Mozzie, but he glanced at the time and remembered he was supposed to be meeting Peter at the diner.

Peter was waiting when Neal got there. He looked up and smiled, suggesting, "Let's get a booth and order. I'm starving."

Neal sank into the booth. He was feeling a little dizzy and sweaty. He gave Peter a big grin and asked, "I'm not too late, am I?"

"For what?" asked Peter. He noticed that Neal was staring past him and asked, "Is everything okay, buddy?"

Neal continued to smile happily. The waitress came over and Peter gave her his order. They both looked at Neal, but he did not respond. Peter prompted, "Neal, what will you have?"

Neal giggled, "No thanks. You go ahead. I've already had plenty. I don't think I should drink any more. It always gets me in trouble."

Peter asked the waitress for a glass of water for his friend and then asked him, "Neal, what are you talking about? Did you stop at the bar? Have you been drinking?"

Neal shook his head and lost focus a little. He answered, "No, I don't think so, but I feel high."

Peter signaled the waitress and cancelled his order. He steered Neal out of the diner and started walking him back to the hospital. He tried asking, "Neal, did you take something?"

Neal was weaving and slurred, "Don' think so. Don' remember."

Peter managed to get Neal into one of the on call sleeping rooms. Right before Neal passed out, he mumbled, "Dr. Summers." Peter hurried to the lab and got what he needed to draw blood for a toxicology screen. He was convinced that Neal was high on something.


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as he had taken Neal's blood sample to the lab for testing, Peter took the elevator to Dr. Summers' office. The door was open, but Peter didn't see anyone. He cautiously entered and looked around.

He noticed a couple of books lying on top of the bookcase. He picked them up and read their titles: _A Merciful End: The Euthanasia Movement in Modern America_ by Ian Dowbiggin and _Euthanasia: A Reference Handbook_ by Jennifer Fecio McDougall and Martha Gorman.

As he started to leaf through them, he heard voices in the hall. He quickly put the two books down on the desk and slipped through the private back door and pressed himself against the wall.

He heard Dr. Summers say sharply, "Will you relax, Wayne? Caffrey doesn't know anything. I don't think he got much of the morphine injection before he knocked it away, but it should be enough to keep him out for awhile. He won't remember much when he wakes up." 

"Mara, it's one thing to dispatch patients to ease their passage, but I won't be party to the murder of a healthy young nursing student," Dr. Powell warned.

"Of course not, Wayne. Nobody is murdering anyone," soothed Dr. Summers. "I'm collecting data for my research paper on euthanasia and you are soliciting donations for the fund, just as we agreed. Daniel Picoh is an ideal patient for us."

"But Caffrey...." protested Dr. Powell. Dr. Summers finished smoothly, "....is just fine. If he thinks he remembers anything, I'll tell him he got upset and stopped me from giving our patient his perfectly legitimate dose of pain medicine. There is no way for him to prove otherwise."

"I don't like this. I think Peter Burke, the chief resident, is suspicious, too," Powell complained.

Mara Summers smiled, "He's hardly a credible observer, though. Did you know he is having an affair with Neal Caffrey?"

Powell chuckled, "Oh, well, I guess that would complicate matters. Mara, you always seem to have everything under control. I admire you."

"You can trust me, Wayne," she assured. "We both want the same thing." She paused and then mused, "Hmm, that's strange. I don't remember leaving these books on my desk."

Peter hurriedly slipped silently down the hall and took the elevator before he could be discovered. He went straight to the room where he had left Neal. His lover was still sleeping peacefully. Peter took his hand and sighed, "Oh, buddy. What have we gotten into now?"

Neal stirred and squeezed Peter's hand. Peter fondly brushed a lock of hair off his brow and admired Neal's masculine beauty, as he always did. Then he set out to find Neal's friend Haversham, the Logistics and Supply manager for the hospital.

Both Haversham and Elizabeth were still in the hospital despite it being the end of their work day. Peter asked them both to meet him at the diner. He was still hungry after his long day. After they both arrived and ordered their food, Peter took a deep breath and tried to summarize the afternoon's events for them.

Haversham asked with alarm, "You mean Neal is unconscious by himself in an on call room now?"

Peter nodded calmly, "But don't worry. He's fine. He just needs to sleep it off. Apparently, he accidentally got injected with some morphine that was intended for Dan Picoh. Don't worry. I'm the only one who knows where he is."

Haversham worried, "Oh no, my friend. You don't understand. This is Neal we're talking about!”

Elizabeth added her concern, "Hon, he's right." Peter sighed, "Alright, if it will make you feel better, we'll go and check on him. Just please let me finish my dinner first."

Elizabeth volunteered, "I pulled the Mortality Conference files and the Research Fund files, but I haven't had a chance to look at them yet. Adler had me running all afternoon. He wants me to send out a letter to the Board members telling them how well the hospital is doing. I guess those charitable donations really help."

Mozzie said suspiciously, "Maybe the fundraising is going a little too well. It looks like they may be pressuring wealthy patients with end stage cancer to will their final estates to the hospital; then they terminate them quickly rather than wait for nature to take its course."

Peter exclaimed, "But that's criminal! I don't care how they try to justify it. Poor Neal must have stumbled onto their plot somehow."

Peter paid the bill and Elizabeth decided she'd go on home. Mozzie insisted on accompanying Peter to check on Neal. When they got back to the room where Peter had left him, though, Neal was nowhere to be found.

Mozzie cursed, "Damnit, I knew it! Neal never stays put. He's far too curious for his own good."

"But he was out cold," Peter protested. 

"Maybe someone found him and moved him," Mozzie speculated darkly.

"Where would anyone take him, though?" Peter questioned. "Neal is not exactly a lightweight. He's more solid than he looks."

"Well, there are always stretchers in the hospital," Mozzie speculated. "But I still think it's more likely that Neal just got up and wandered off."

"Well, I doubt if he is in very good condition if he did. Let's look around for him," Peter suggested. He started by opening the door to the adjoining bathroom. He laughed out loud when he discovered Neal huddled in the corner of the shower, sound asleep. He called, "Hey Haversham. We're not going to have look very hard."

Mozzie came over and peeked in. He chuckled and went over to shake Neal awake. Neal looked up at him hazily and then gave him a bright smile of recognition. "Hey Mozz! What are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same, mon frere," quipped Mozzie. "Comfy place for a nap?"

Peter helped him and the two men wrestled Neal up and walked him back over to the bed. Neal gave a little sigh as he closed his eyes again and mumbled, "There, that's better."

Peter laughed again and told Mozzie, "You can go on home. I promise I'll stay here with him until the medication wears off."

Mozzie agreed, "Okay, but don't let him out of your sight. Tomorrow, we'll look at Elizabeth's files and see what we can find out."

He left and Peter lay wearily on the bed next to Neal. He opened his arms and, much to his delight, his drugged lover cuddled into them. Peter tightened his arms around him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead. He vowed, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Some hours later, the pair were awakened by Peter's phone. Hughes was calling to ask Peter to admit a colon cancer patient who had shown up in the emergency department actively bleeding from his rectum. The emergency docs had staunched the bleeding and stabilized him, but they wanted to admit him to the Oncology service for further work up and treatment.

Peter yawned and apologized to Neal, "I've got to get back to work. Emergency admission. White male, 32 years old, colon cancer."

Neal felt refreshed after sleeping for the last eight hours. He sat up and volunteered, "I'll come with you. I need to check on Dan. He had a high fever earlier this afternoon."

"Neal, do you remember what happened? Did Dr. Summers inject you with some morphine?" Peter inquired.

"Oh, so that's what it was," Neal realized. "She was about to give it to Dan and I knocked it away. I had a feeling it might have been a lethal dose." He looked around and admitted, "I don't remember what happened after that - or coming in here to sleep."

Peter filled him in, "You met me at the diner, but you were really out of it, so I brought you here. I ran a tox screen on you, but I haven't seen the results yet."

"How do you know it was morphine then?" Neal wondered. Peter explained how he had gone up to Dr. Summers' office and overheard her conversation with Dr. Powell about euthanasia.

Neal was alarmed. "I'd definitely better check on Dan, then. Looks like they've targeted him for their next victim."

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I'll get started on my new admission, David Siegel, but you let me know if Dan needs anything."

"Thanks, Peter. We have to find a way to put a stop to this!" Neal asserted strongly.

Peter replied, "Well, we're going to need some solid proof to take to Dr. Hughes. Elizabeth has the files we need to look at. Haversham is concerned that Adler could be involved, too."

"Sounds like Mozzie, ever the conspiracy aficionado," chuckled Neal. "In this case, he could be right, though.

To Neal's relief, Dan Picoh was sleeping and afebrile when he checked on his temperature. He went out to the Nurses Station and found Pierce there, looking like she was about to fall asleep. She smiled at Neal and purred, "Oh good, someone to talk to. I hate night shifts. They're so boring. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Oh, I just happened to be in the hospital anyway, so I wanted to be sure Dan was okay. He was pretty sick yesterday," Neal said casually.

"Oh yeah, Dr. Powell came in and ordered antibiotics for him last evening," Pierce related. "I was kind of surprised because I thought he wasn't going to treat him anymore."

"Pierce, do you think that's right? Not treating patients just because their prognosis is bad anyway?" Neal quizzed.

"Sometimes, it's the merciful thing to do, I guess," Pierce shrugged. "Dan is awfully young, though. They usually do everything they can to save someone like him."

"Does Dr. Powell usually let his patients die? I mean, more than the other doctors do?" Neal pursued.

"I don't know. Maybe. I haven't worked here very long," Pierce equivocated. "Dr. Powell is pretty nice, though. Not like that old meanie, Fowler."

"Does Fowler let his patients die, too?" wondered Neal. Pierce flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and sighed, "I don't know. Why all the questions, good looking?"

Neal gave her an innocent grin and avoided her question. "Oh, I don't know. Just curious. Guess I'll go see if Peter, I mean Dr. Burke, needs any help."

Pierce grinned, "I bet Peter is the real reason you're here so late, isn't he? Naughty boy."

Neal gave her wink and started down the hall. Then he stopped and asked, "Pierce, do you know if Dr. Summers consults on all of the patients on Oncology? What do you think of her?"

"Mmm, more questions, huh? I ought to start charging for information," Pierce responded flippantly. "I guess Mara's all right. The patients seem to like talking to her. Did you know she's writing a book about euthanasia? I guess letting patients die falls into that category."

Neal nodded, "Yeah, but so does lethal injection. Ever heard of anything like that happening around here?"

"Of course not," Pierce dismissed him. "That would be illegal. Hey, did you know Dr. Burke's new colon cancer patient is an FBI Agent? He's dreamy, too. You'd better get down there before he charms your boyfriend away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Books on Euthanasia:_  
>  https://www.questia.com/library/103188696/a-merciful-end-the-euthanasia-movement-in-modern  
> https://www.questia.com/library/120084979/euthanasia-a-reference-handbook


	10. Chapter 10

Eventually, Peter and Neal were able to go back to the on call room for a few more hours sleep. Peter was exhausted but keyed up from the excitement of the day. He didn't object when Neal slid on top on him and rubbed their naked bodies together.

Neal initiated a deep kiss that left them both breathless and then began to nibble Peter's earlobe and nip his neck. Neal giggled, "Since you never get any time off, I guess I can make this work."

"Mmm," Peter hummed. "It's definitely working."

Neal reached one hand down to encourage their erections. He let his fingers drift down and brush over Peter's hairy balls. He gave a playful little squeeze and Peter yelped.

Neal teased, "Hey, better be quiet, Dr. Burke. We don't want anyone coming in here asking embarrassing questions."

Peter ran his hands appreciatively along the hard muscles of Neal's back. He kissed him again and sighed, "I was worried about you this afternoon."

"Yeah, thanks for taking care of me. I seem to keep getting myself drugged," Neal answered with a little chuckle.

He began to undulate seductively over Peter so their hard cocks were sliding over each other, using their leakage to lubricate their motion. Peter groaned and reached down to assist in jerking them.

They didn't last long before their excitement overtook them and first one and then the other erupted. Peter almost immediately fell asleep, his hand still resting lightly over his softening dick.

Neal slid quietly off of him and padded to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. He gently wiped them off; then nestled next to Peter with his head on Peter's shoulder. He kissed him lightly one more time before he finally slept.

In the morning, Neal was assigned another new patient named Abigail Kincaide. She was an attractive thirty-five year old woman with inoperable ovarian cancer who was admitted for a second round of chemo. She had been ambivalent about starting the difficult regime of treatments again, but her tumor had been growing rapidly without it.

Neal completed her admission paperwork and tried flirting with her a little bit to cheer her up. Abigail gave him a weak smile and said, "Don't bother, Nurse Caffrey. You're not my type."

Neal soon discovered that his instructor Diana Berrigan was Abigail's type. She was Dr. Fowler's patient and Neal idly wondered if Dr. Summers would be called to consult. He was surprised when the patient herself asked to see the psychiatrist. He was shocked when Dr. Summers came into the room and gave the patient an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

While the psychiatrist visited with Abigail, Neal went to meet the patient that Peter had admitted the night before. He was immediately taken with the personable, good looking, unmarried FBI Agent. As they chatted, Neal discovered that David Siegel was the heir to a fortune made from manufacturing elevator buttons.

David noted wryly, "There are a lot of things money can do for you, but curing cancer isn't one of them."

Neal answered absently, "No, I suppose not." He was wondering whether anyone would try to talk Agent Siegel into donating his money to the hospital and how David would respond if they did. Neal decided to talk it over later with Peter.

Next, he made his way to Daniel's room, where his patient was sitting up and eating a little breakfast. Unfortunately, while Neal was recording his vital signs, Dan became nauseated and vomited up everything he had eaten.

When his heaving stopped and Neal had wiped his face with a cool washcloth, Dan began to cry in frustration. "What's the use?" he sobbed. "I can't even eat. I can't do anything but lie here sick in this bed."

Neal patted him sympathetically. He wished he knew what he could say to help him feel better. He settled for checking to see whether Dan was due for more antiemetic medication. When he returned to inject some into the IV, Dan had composed himself. He said sincerely, "Thanks for taking such good care of me, Neal. You must get tired of it."

Neal turned to him and replied honestly, "No, I really don't. I just want you to get better, Dan."

"I don't think that's going to happen," Dan concluded morosely. "The chemo doesn't seem to be helping this time."

Neal paused and then remembered, "But your cancer markers were going down the other day when I checked. I wonder what happened?"

Dan pulled up his blanket and turned away from him. He mumbled, "Maybe the money I leave to the research fund will at least help someone else."

"Don't give up yet," Neal pleaded. "You have to keep your hope alive. I'll try to have confidence for both us, okay? I'm going to check your lab results again, too."

Peter found Neal at lunchtime and asked him to join him in meeting with Elizabeth and Mozzie in the cafeteria. Once they were all seated, Peter disclosed that the results of Neal's tox screen from the day before definitely showed that he'd been high on morphine. He pointed out, "If Dr. Summers had injected the whole syringe, it might have been a lethal amount."

Neal frowned, "I don't think she really meant to inject any into me. It happened while we were struggling. Anyway, it would take a lot higher dose to kill me than it would Dan, especially since he would have received it through his IV line."

Peter admitted, "She denied trying to kill you when I overheard her talking to Dr. Powell later, but it sounded like they were planning to euthanize Dan."

"Without his consent, or without even his knowledge, that's murder!" Neal reminded them angrily. "The funny thing is, Dr. Summers came into my new patient's room this morning and she barely acknowledged me, like I was just some nurse who happened to be there."

"Which you were," Peter pointed out drily. "Weren't you? What did you expect? An apology, maybe? Or a confession?"

Mozzie broke in impatiently, "Elizabeth allowed me to look at her files and Dr. Powell definitely has had more deaths than the other attending doctors have had over the last couple of months. None of them were suspicious, though, since he routinely treats patients who are in the final stages of their disease."

Elizabeth added, "A high percentage of those patients did contribute to the hospital fund, though, and all of them saw Dr. Summers, too. I checked and she has published a couple of preliminary articles promoting mercy killing for dying patients who are suffering from incurable diseases."

Mozzie groaned, "All this is so circumstantial, though. Nobody would believe that either of those doctors was intentionally trying to harm their patients."

Neal brought up his conversation with Agent David Siegel about his family's wealth. Peter interjected, "He is Dr. Hughes's patient, but he seems like a perfect target for Powell and Summers."

"An FBI Agent might be willing to help us try to catch them, too," Elizabeth noted enthusiastically.

Neal mourned, "I wish someone could help poor Dan. I still think he is a perfect target for those two."

Peter scraped his chair back and apologized, "I've got to get back. I have a full schedule this afternoon."

Neal volunteered, "I'll walk back with you. I want to find out how Christopher's amputation surgery went, and I need to have another look at Dan's lab results."

Elizabeth turned her attention to Mozzie and asked, "Can you take a little time to go over those files with me again, Haversham? Maybe we can find our smoking gun if we look harder."

Mozzie noticed Dr. Powell and Dr. Summers sitting down across the room and lowered his voice as he suggested, "Ms. Mitchell, how about seeing if we can do a little eavesdropping? They don't know us, so they won't suspect anything. Let's get new trays and sit down at that table right next to them."

Neal was glad to discover that Chris's surgery had gone well. His prognosis would be markedly better without the affected leg. As soon as he gained back a little strength, he would be ready to start rehab with a prosthesis.

Dan's lab values were showing some improvement from the chemo, but Neal worried that his progress wasn't fast enough. He wondered if more could be done if his oncologist weren't so eager for him to die. He decided to encourage Dan to ask for a second opinion.

Neal wondered if Abigail Kincaide was wealthy, too. He noticed she had given her occupation as "professional shopper" and he wondered whether she made a lot of money that way. She was already receiving her first chemotherapy treatment that afternoon so he didn't disturb her.

David Siegel called out to him as he went by, "Neal, got a minute to talk?"

Neal eagerly entered the agent's room. He was intrigued when David told him that he had been visited briefly by a psychiatrist and he wondered if that was a standard procedure. When Neal checked the medical record, he didn't find any request from Dr. Hughes for a psych consult, so he told David he would find out and get back to him with the answer.

David volunteered, "She seemed especially interest in my financial affairs and whether there were any heirs to my fortune. Since I'm divorced and I don't have children, I told her there aren't any."

Neal was immediately concerned. He felt that he and Peter should confide their suspicions to the agent. It was possible that he would know how to help them.

When Neal heard Dr. Summers telling head nurse Sara Ellis that she was going to see Dan next, Neal quickly sneaked into Dan's bathroom and hid. He wanted to hear what they talked about. Unfortunately, Dr. Summers remembered their experience from the day before and checked the bathroom before she began her session with Dan.

When she discovered Neal in there, she growled, "Well, Neal, why are you hiding out in here? I hope there's nothing inappropriate going on between you and Daniel."

Daniel laughed and said, "I only wish! Don't worry, doc. Neal is perfectly professional with me."

Neal glared at Dr. Summers and unwisely interjected, "Which is more than I can say for you, Doctor."


	11. Chapter 11

Neal slipped out of Dan's room before the psychiatrist could react to what he said. He was worried about leaving her alone with Dan, though. Since Dr. Powell had ordered antibiotics for Dan the night before, Neal thought maybe he was getting cold feet about killing Dan after Neal had almost caught them trying to overdose him.

Still, he hovered outside Dan's room nervously until Dr. Summers left and then he quickly checked Dan's vitals to be sure he was okay. He probed, "What do you and the shrink talk about Dan? Is she helpful to you?"

"I don't know. I guess. I talk to her a lot about suicide, if you really want to know. I can't take much more of this cancer slowly eating me alive," Dan said morosely.

"What does she have to say about that?" Neal asked curiously. He unobtrusively flipped on a mini-recorder he carried in his pocket.

"She tells me that suicide is a legitimate choice for me, if you want to know the truth. Nobody else really seems to get how hard this is for me, being so sick all the time. There's not much that makes life worth living any more," Dan confessed petulantly.

"But would you still feel that way if you believed you were going to get well?" pressed Neal.

"Well, of course not. That would make all the difference. As you said, as long as I have hope, I can keep going. But if I'm just going to die anyway, why put it off?" Dan agonized.

"Oh Dan, I don't want you to give up yet. I think you might be responding to your current course of treatments. There might be more that could be done, too," Neal insisted.

"But for how long? Even if I get another remission, the cancer will just come back," Dan accepted fatalistically.

"But you can't know that, Dan," Neal argued, "and you might have months, or even years, before that happens. You are still a young man."

"Thanks, Neal. I'll think about what you said. It helps to know someone cares," Dan said, reaching for Neal's hand and smiling fondly.

Neal gently caressed his hand and told him sincerely, "I do care. Don't give up, okay?"

When Neal got back to the Nurses Station, Dr. Summers and Dr. Powell were waiting for him. Dr. Powell ordered, "We need to talk, Mr. Caffrey. I think you may have misinterpreted something you witnessed yesterday."

Neal prevaricated, "Well, I can't right now. I have to prepare my medications to give to my patients."

"That can wait," the oncologist replied firmly. "This won't take long. Let's go upstairs to Dr. Summers' office where we can have some privacy."

Neal looked anxiously over his shoulder as they walked off the the Oncology floor. The only person he saw was Agent Siegel, watching from the door of his room. Neal desperately signaled "help" in sign language behind his back and prayed the FBI Agent would understand.

When Peter entered David Siegel's room a little later, he informed him apologetically, "I need to remove the packing gauze from your rectum to check if your bleeding stopped."

David made himself comfortable on the bed and grimaced, "It's okay. Do what you need to do. I understand."

Peter used a forcep to gently tease out the gauze. He commented, "I was looking for student nurse Neal. I think he wanted to see this, with your permission of course. I don't know where he's gotten off to, though. I didn't see him around on the floor."

David grunted as the last of the gauze came out and sighed, "Ah, that feels better. Has the bleeding stopped?"

"Yeah, it looks like it. At least, for now. We'll keep a close eye on you, though," Peter promised.

"Hey Dr. Burke, I saw Neal leaving the floor with two other doctors a little while ago. One of them was that psychiatrist," David volunteered. "You know, it was strange. It looked like Neal was using sign language to make a distress signal behind his back."

"Whoa! What? Oh no! Neal's in trouble!" exclaimed Peter. "Do you know where they were going?"

"No, what's the matter, Dr. Burke? What's going on around here?" the agent asked with alarm. "You seem really worried."

"Agent Siegel, may I ask for your help? Or maybe you have a partner or someone I could talk to?" Peter anguished.

"How can I help?" Agent Siegel asked calmly. "If I need assistance, I can certainly call for it."

Peter spilled out his fears about the hospital fund and Dr. Powell's and Dr. Summers' involvement in a conspiracy to get patients to donate and then die soon after. The agent listened with growing concern and questioned, "Do the two doctors know that you and Neal are on to them?"

Peter nodded fearfully, "Yesterday, Neal interrupted them before they could inject a lethal dose of morphine into one of his patients and ended up getting dosed with some of the drug himself. I'm afraid he may have been brash enough to confront them today."

"Why haven't you called the authorities before now?" inquired Agent Siegel with consternation.

Peter replied hesitantly, "Well, we didn't have any firm proof, just a lot of hints and suspicions. On the Oncology service, we treat many terminally ill patients. The line between pain relief and overdose is often a very thin one. Patients themselves are often ambivalent."

"We can discuss this further later, Doctor, but if you are worried about Neal, I think we'd better go look for him," Siegel offered.

"I really don't think they would kill him or anything...." Peter hesitated.

The agent was pulling on his shoulder holster and loading his service revolver. He pointed out grimly, "But you're not sure. Come on, Dr. Burke. Let's go find them."

"Call me Peter, please," the doctor urged. "Are you sure you're up to this, David?"

David nodded emphatically and the two headed for the elevator. When they got there, Haversham was just stepping off. He approached them excitedly, "Peter, where's Neal? Elizabeth and I overheard Dr. Summers and Dr. Powell plotting against him during lunch. Elizabeth went back to try to find out how much Vincent Adler knows about what's going on."

Peter introduced his hastily dressed patient, "This is FBI Agent David Siegel. Haversham here is the hospital's Logistics and Supply manager and Neal's good friend.

David asked tersely, "What kind of plotting against Neal Caffrey did you overhear? Is he in imminent danger?"

Haversham replied uncertainly, "I don't think they intend to kill him. They just want to discredit him. Peter, they're planning to do the same to you, too, if you continue to look into their activities."

Siegel urged, "Come on, Peter, let's go check out Dr. Summers' office, as you suggested before. That might be where they are."

Neal was indeed with Drs. Powell and Summers in her office. As they talked, he wondered whether Agent Siegel had interpreted his distress signal and taken it seriously. So far, though, all the two physicians had wanted to do was to try to convince him that what they were doing wasn't wrong.

Dr. Powell stressed, "My wife could have been saved, if only some critical research had been completed before her breast cancer metastasized throughout her body. Unfortunately the scientists lacked the funding they needed to complete their research sooner."

"His wife was my sister, too," Dr. Summers added, "but every day I see patients like her who are suffering long past the time when they have any chance of getting well. What is the point of making people suffer agonizing pain and humiliating debilitation and intrusive treatment in the last months of their lives? It's just cruel."

Neal fingered the recorder in his pocket and encouraged them to keep talking. He challenged, "Who are you to play God, to decide which patients will die and when their time is up? Are you sure you're not just trying to get money for the research you believe is so urgent? Do you intervene with patients who aren't rich, too?"

"Of course, if any patient requests that they be allowed to die, I try to help them," claimed Dr. Summers.

"Yes, but in some cases, money is basically being poured down the drain treating end stage patients when it could be far more usefully dedicated to helping people who still have a chance," Dr. Powell added bitterly. "It is such an unconscionable waste."

"Speaking of consciences, doctors, where are yours?" Neal cried. "Everyone dies eventually and no one knows how long anyone's life will be. But every life can have meaning, even under the most stressful conditions. And we can relieve most of the pain our patients suffer if we are aggressive about it."

"It is only a question of how aggressive we are willing to be in many cases, Neal. It should be up to patients to decide for themselves when they have had enough treatment and wish to be released to a peaceful death. I don't believe God requires that everyone suffer through every last marginal treatment or procedure that medicine can provide, especially when the results are highly questionable," argued Dr. Summers.

"Maybe so, but it is hard for patients in acute distress to make well reasoned decisions. They should be given support and encouraged to be optimistic and to continue to find meaning in their lives," Neal said passionately. "You are doing just the opposite just so you can get their money!"

"You are not going to drop this, are you, Caffrey?" Mara Summers concluded angrily.

Neal shook his head and insisted, "I can't. Not when I see a patient like Daniel Picoh, who is having a hard time right now, but still might have a chance for months of remission or even possibly a cure."

"A very slim chance," Dr. Powell pointed out. "It is far more likely that he will succumb to his disease sooner rather than later."

"But his markers are improving; he is responding to the chemo," Neal pointed out.

"Yes, yes, well, that was unexpected," muttered Dr. Powell. "We had already targeted him."

"Shut up, Wayne," warned Dr. Summers. "Mr. Caffrey, we do not intend to let you trash all our good work."

"Are you going to kill me?" challenged Neal, still hoping that someone would come to rescue him.

"No, we're not that reckless," she told him with an evil glint in her eye. "We're going to help you destroy yourself. I'm going to give you some medication and then I am going to plant some very disturbing ideas in your mind. Everyone will think you are crazy, and pretty soon, you will begin to wonder, too."

"You really like to play God, don't you, Dr. Summers?" Neal asked sassily. "I might not be as easy to break as you think I am."

"Let's find out, shall we?" Dr. Powell approached him with a syringe and quickly injected its contents into Neal's neck muscle. 

Neal cried out and stared at the two doctors in horror. He threatened, "You will never get away with this."

Dr. Summers calmly waited for the drug to take effect and then proceeded with her plan. When she had finished planting toxic hypnotic suggestions, she turned to Dr. Powell and instructed, "Now, you need to take him over to the bar and get him drunk before his friends find him. It won't be hard with the sedative he already has in his system."

Not long after they all three left her office, Peter arrived with Agent Siegel, only to find no one there.


	12. Chapter 12

Dr. Powell steered the dazed completely compliant Neal into the bar and selected a table in the back. He left Neal there while he went to the bar and asked for a glass of water and a Johnnie Walker Red neat. He added, "Make it a double."

Back at the table, Neal stared fuzzily at him through his thick black glasses while he innocently followed the command to drink down the strong liquor. His captor ordered another and Neal downed it, too. Wayne took out his handkerchief and soaked up the last few drops of Scotch and then squeezed them onto Neal's neck and collar.

He snapped his fingers in front of Neal's face, as Mara had instructed him, and the light came back into Neal's eyes. He gave Wayne a dizzy grin, emitted a loud burp, and started to giggle.

Wayne clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Feeling good now, eh friend? Time to go back on duty."

He guided the unsteady drunken student back to the hospital, ignoring his stream of confused questions. He ran a hand through the young man's hair, loosened his tie and released the top button of his shirt. Then he deposited him into an empty elevator, pushed the button for the Oncology floor, and admonished, "Have a nice day!"

When Neal staggered off the elevator, he swerved into a small waiting room and plopped down on an armchair. As his head dropped to his chest and his eyes closed, his glasses fell to the floor beside him.

Kyle Bancroft, head of hospital security, had received an alert to watch for any signs of student nurse Neal Caffrey. He exited the elevator on the Oncology floor, intending to get more information. He glanced in the waiting room as he walked by and noticed a pair of black framed glasses on the floor.

When he bent to retrieve the glasses, he saw the young man sleeping in the armchair. Bancroft shook him gently and called his name. "Caffrey? Is that you, son? You have a lot of people looking for you. Come on, wake up now."

Neal yawned and stretched and put his hands up to his face, looking confused. Bancroft chuckled, "Here put these on. Is that better?"

Neal gave him a charming smile and responded, "Officer Bancroft! Thank you. I wondered where my glasses were. And here they are."

"Yes," Bancroft replied, looking Neal over. He asked suspiciously, "Have you been drinking, Neal?"

Neal giggled a little and answered cockily, "I guess. So what? I'm perfectly fine. I just needed a little nap."

Bancroft was confused by Neal's nonchalant attitude. It didn't seem typical of Neal Caffrey's usual demeanor. He shrugged it off and said firmly, "Well, come with me. You have a lot of people worried about you."

"Oh? What are they worried about?" Neal asked casually. "I'm fine. In fact, I've never been better. There are few things I need to do, though."

Bancroft worriedly accompanied Neal to the Nursing Station where Sara Ellis exclaimed, "Neal! Where have you been? Everyone has been so worried. Peter has been going out of his mind!"

Neal smiled broadly and then told her, "You're looking especially lovely today, Sara. I don't know what everyone was so worried about. I wasn't gone long, was I?"

"More to the point, where were you? Neal, this is serious," she lectured. As he got close to her, she admonished, "Neal, you have been drinking! What is going on?"

"Aw, I might have had a little drink, but so what?" Neal scoffed. He looked around and demanded, "Hey, where is Daniel Picoh's medical record? I want to order a new chemo regime for him. We need to be more aggressive with his treatment."

"W-what?" Sara stared at him in disbelief. "You can't order anything, Neal. And anyway, Daniel is barely able to withstand the treatment he is currently being given, and he hasn't even finished the course yet."

"And why can't I order a change? Because you don't agree, Nurse?" Neal demanded arrogantly. "I think I know what's best for my patient."

Sara retorted, "And I think you are crazy - and drunk! You are not a doctor. I'm going to call Ms. Berrigan and Dr. Burke stat."

Just then Pierce Spelman walked onto the floor to report for the evening shift. Neal threw an arm around her waist and drew her to him. Before she could react, he planted a juicy kiss on her lips and gushed, "Hey there, cupcake. How are you doing?" Pierce laughed, "Wow, Caffrey! What's gotten into you? Besides some strong spirits, I suspect."

Neal objected, "Why is everybody making a big deal about my drinking. I'm perfectly fine. It's my patients that need attention."

Peter came walking down the hall, followed by David Siegel. He gasped, "Neal! There you are. Thank God!"

Neal gave him a smug smile and asked, "Need my help, Peter? Ask me anything. I'll be glad to advise you."

"You, what? Advise me? What do you mean, buddy?" Peter stammered in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Neal strolled over to him and kissed him lightly on his temple. He cautioned, "Peter, it's not appropriate for you to bring up our intimate personal relationship in front of our professional colleagues. Okay? Now I have work to do, if you'll excuse me."

Everyone stared at Neal with wide eyes and open mouths. They couldn't believe what they were seeing and hearing. Neal had suddenly turned into a smooth talking, and apparently deluded, egotist who believed he was an attending physician.

Neal stared back at them and asked impatiently, "What's the matter? Am I the only one around here who can get anything done? I care about these patients, you know. Hey, could someone get me Abigail Kincaide's record? I need to review her history."

Peter laid a hand on Neal's arm and challenged, "Neal, what do you think you are doing? What's wrong with you?"

David Siegel stepped up and confided quietly to Peter, "I think I may know what the problem is. I've seen a reaction like this once before, in someone who was programmed."

Peter turned and queried, "Programmed? What do you mean? What's that? Neal is acting completely out of character."

"Exactly," David continued. "I believe he may have been drugged and hypnotized, or you could say, brainwashed. Dr. Summers could have done it."

"Oh," Peter considered, dimly understanding what David was saying. "Well, suppose you're right. What can we do?"

"Well, first we'd better get him away from everybody," David proposed. "I have an idea."

He stepped in front of Neal and appealed, "Dr. Caffrey, I need your help. No one else can do it. Could you come with me for a minute?"

Neal hesitated; then responded, "Of course. How can I help you, Agent Siegel? I'll do whatever I can." He waved at Sara and Pierce, assuring, "I'll be right back, cuties."

Peter gave a relieved sigh, as Neal followed David into his room. He told Sara and Pierce urgently, "Give us a few minutes to figure this out, will you?"

The two stunned nurses nodded at him and then looked at each other and burst into laughter.

When Siegel, Peter and Neal were in his room, David closed the door. He turned to Neal and abruptly barked out several conflicting arbitrary nonsensical commands, "Bend over, Neal. Stand up straight. Crawl over to the bathroom. Touch your toes. Reach under the bed. Try to touch the ceiling."

Neal froze and stared at David uncomprehendingly. He whined, "But, I can't.... What do you want me to do?"

David ignored him, as he explained to Peter, "I'm pretty sure a form of psychological mind control has been used on Neal, but when he receives a rapid series of confusing commands, he is unable to respond."

He took pity on Neal and commanded, "Sit on the chair over there, Neal, and count the number of slats on the window blind."

Peter looked at David in amazement and wondered, "What can we do? How can we undo this?"

"Well, he's probably going to need some legitimate psychological deprogramming, but for a rapid intervention, I believe you can use a hefty dose of an antipsychotic major tranquilizer such as Thorazine."

"Really? Orally or injected?" questioned Peter. "Normally, I would hesitate to give him a drug like that after he has been drinking."

"I understand. I can call the Bureau shrink who works in the White Collar section with me, if you like. You could consult with him," David offered.

Yes, that would be extremely helpful," accepted Peter. "Do you think you can reach him right away?"

"I'll try," David agreed, reaching for his phone. "Wow, I sure wasn't expecting all this drama when I came to the hospital."

"Is it too much for you, David?" worried Peter. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't need your help so desperately."

"It's okay. I like Neal. I want to help him if I can," David assured him. "Then I'm going to call in my team to help apprehend Dr. Summers and Dr. Powell. I suspect they may want to set up a sting operation."

Neal suddenly stood up and walked over to David. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small tape recorder and offered it to him.

David thanked him and ordered him to go back and sit down and resume counting. He whispered to Peter, "By using a confident authoritarian tone, I am able to manipulate him to follow my commands instead of the suggestions that were preprogrammed."

Peter and David examined the recorder that Neal had handed over. Peter explained, "Neal uses that to record his interactions with patients so he can remember them when he writes up case studies for his nursing instructors."

David pressed the play button and the incriminating voices of the conspiring doctors talking to Dan Picoh could be heard clearly. Neal reacted uncomfortably to hearing the tape and hid his head in his arms. Peter went over and put his hands on Neal's shoulders to try to calm him.

David remarked, "Well, this will certainly give us a big headstart in apprehending those two rogues."

The FBI physician that David called asked to confer directly with Peter. The two of them decided that it would be safer to administer the antipsychotic drug in the morning after the alcohol was out of Neal's system. The consultant suggested that Peter keep Neal isolated until then so he couldn't do any damage to himself or others.

Peter concurred and decided the best thing to do would be to take Neal home to his apartment and stay there with him overnight. He would give him a shot of Thorazine when they returned to the hospital in the morning. If necessary, Peter would admit Neal and the FBI woukd work with hospital security to keep him safe.

Suddenly Peter and David were distracted by a low moan coming from Neal. They glanced over at him, only to see that he had unzipped his fly and freed his rigid reddish erection. He was enthusiastically jerking off with a look of uncomplicated pleasure on his face.

They both quickly looked away. Peter blushed and David chuckled, "He can't help it. He's under a lot of stress and his usual inhibitions have been temporarily disabled."

Peter sighed, "I'd better get him out of here before he embarrasses himself and everybody else even more than he already has."

He walked over and gently disengaged Neal's hand and stuffed his stiff penis back into his pants. When Neal protested, Peter bent over and whispered in his ear, "Just wait until we get home. Okay, buddy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Uh-oh. I think I need one more chapter to pull all the threads together and end this!_


	13. CODA

Peter managed to hustle Neal out of the hospital and home to June's house by using the strict militaristic commanding tone that David Siegel demonstrated. June was home to open the door and let them in.

Neal gave her a kiss on each cheek and complimented her effusively. "My favorite charming society lady! You're a rock star, June!"

June gave a him a perplexed little smile and inquired, "Well, what got into you, Neal? Has he been drinking, Peter?"

Peter replied uncomfortably, "It's a complicated story. I really just need to get him upstairs. Come on, Neal."

Neal had other ideas, though. He sauntered back to June's sitting room with the piano, sat down and began to play, _"Lady Sings the Blues"_. He enticed June into singing with him. Peter marveled at the two of them with their impressive talent.

When they finished, Peter insisted strongly, "Neal! We must go upstairs, right now."

June was amused and offered to send some dinner up to them a little later. Peter got Neal out of his suit and into some soft pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He was turned on, running his hands over Neal's exquisite physique. Neal turned and kissed Peter deeply and returned his passion. 

The two lovers spent a long evening enjoying each other in bed, stopping only to eat the ravishing meal June sent up for them. Peter was a little uncomfortable because Neal was still not himself, but he was also thrilled by the smooth confident assertive personality that Neal had assumed.

In the morning, Neal seemed less sure of himself and followed Peter's lead in getting dressed for work. He asked several times, "Peter? What happened yesterday? There's a lot I can't remember."

Peter reassured him, "I know, sweetheart, but it's going to be all right. We need to get you to the hospital."

Agent Siegel's FBI physician colleague was already there when they arrived. David took over from Peter and skillfully ordered Neal into a treatment room. The consulting physician directed Peter to administer an injection of 50 mg of Thorazine IM.

The drug hit Neal like a two ton truck and he looked up helplessly at Peter as he passed out on the treatment table. Peter assigned a nurse to keep watch on him and monitor his pulse, respiration and blood pressure until he regained consciousness.

When Dr. Powell came onto the floor as usual to make his rounds, Peter informed him, that his patient David Siegel wished to talk to him about contributing his fortune to the hospital fund. He requested that Dr. Summers be present for their discussion, too.

Using the information from the tape Neal had made the day before, David skillfully and subtly led the two physicians through a conversation that thoroughly incriminated them both. They even gave him examples of other patients that they had "helped" to donate their fortunes and commit planned assisted suicides. 

When he felt he had enough material for a conviction, David signaled his team and revealed the wire he was wearing. Dr. Summers sputtered, "We've done nothing wrong. We have only helped patients like you to control their own destinies."

Dr. Powell said morosely, "Shut up, Mara. It's over." The two were read their rights and placed under arrest for conspiring to commit murder and financial manipulation.

Later in the day, when the Oncology floor had returned to normal, Neal recovered enough to be released. He was mortified when Sara and Lauren greeted him sassily, "Hi there, cupcake!"

Dr. Hughes came onto the unit to take over the care of Dr. Powell's patients and he sincerely thanked Peter and Neal for discovering the scheme of the diabolical doctors. Ms. Berrigan came around and suggested that Neal take the following day off so he would have a long weekend to recover. 

Hughes generously offered Peter a long weekend, too - the first three days off in a row he'd had since he became chief resident. The happy lovers went off to find Mozzie and Elizabeth to fill them in on everything that had happened.

Elizabeth informed them sadly, "The FBI came and interrogated Administrator Adler, but it appears that he's going to skate away from trouble once again. There is no evidence that he had any specific knowledge about the scheme with the fund, and of course he denied it completely."

Mozzie sighed, "I guess we'll never know for sure, but I'll always have my suspicions."

Peter went to find intern Clinton Jones so he could make rounds with him and give him instructions for caring for the Oncology patients while Peter took his days off. Neal went to tell his patients that he would be off for a few days.

Neal was delighted to discover that Christopher would soon be discharged from the hospital and continue his therapy as an outpatient. Chris and his father and his girlfriend all thanked Neal effusively for his caring intervention in Chris's moment of crisis. They credited Neal with helping to heal their family as well as Christopher's cancer.

When Neal walked into Dan's room, the young patient was sitting up and looking stronger. He giggled and teased Neal about his behavior the day before, which had been the talk of the nurses. He added, "Nurse Pierce took care of me last night and now I'm not so sure I'm gay after all."

Neal laughed at that and then they had a serious conversation about Dan's treatment and signs of remission. Dan was informed about the duplicity of Dr. Powell and Dr. Summers, as well as the motivations for their actions, but he decided he still wished to leave his enormous estate to the hospital so others could be helped in the future.

Abigail Kincaide was thoroughly spooked by the FBI intervention since she was wanted for some art crimes she had participated in several years before. Neal promised that he would not disclose her secret, but he encouraged her to confess to David Siegel, make restitution of the paintings, and ask for mercy on account of her advanced cancer.

Despite his emotional meetings with his patients, Neal had been sober and subdued all day. So when they finally left the hospital to begin their weekend vacation, Peter was thrilled when Neal exuberantly hugged him and and whooped, "Let's got out of here!"

Peter tickled him aggressively and enthused, "You got it, partner!"

**Author's Note:**

> _The White Collar characters were originally developed by Jeff Eastin for the series on USA TV._


End file.
